Take My Breath Away
by FragrantPrincess
Summary: What is life when it's being lived for you. Orphaned and suffering a life of etiquette and orders, Annabelle just wants it to end, but a certain Newsie won't have that. Musical version.
1. Suffocating

Suffocating

**A/N This is a fan fiction in response to BubbleTea4Me's challenge. I decided to add my own spin to this fiction. The loveable quality about Newsies is that it was a musical. I will add lyrics to, hopefully common songs, as a part of the story to hopefully get depth. This is a trial chapter because I'm not 100 sure on the concept. So let me know if you hate it or love it. Based on reviews, I'll see if I continue or not.**

Suffocating. The air was thin, filled with a heaviness that couldn't be explained. Breathing was difficult.

Annabelle Danvers sat at the lavishly decorated dinner table. The surrounding people were laughing in their arrogant way as they sipped their wine and feasted on their dinner. To them, she was the pink of perfection. Her posture was perfect. Her gown was beautiful and styled to the time. Her chocolate colored hair was piled in curls atop her head and though her dark gray eyes were focused on her hands that lay in her lap, there was no reason to suspect she wasn't in high spirits.

Annabelle choked on her breath as her heart sank. She couldn't stop her racing mind. She felt trapped. Uncomfortable. Her skin was too tight and it itched. Her legs were trembling as she stood and excused herself from the table.

She walked quickly, dodging the many party guests until she burst into the kitchen. The cooks and servants stared at her in confusion, but she ignored them. Her body hurt and her eyes stung with restrained tears. Hatred coursed through her as the door to the kitchen swung open and a tall man with dark eyes and dark hair entered.

"Dearest, whatever is the matter?" he asked as he approached her. He took her small hands into his and held them. "Are you feeling ill?" Annabelle only nodded. She couldn't trust her own voice. It would deceive her. She was never good at lying. "Come then, I will have my driver take you home. Would you like me to escort you?" Annabelle shook her head and allowed the man to usher her back into the dining room. "Guests," he said in a loud voice so everyone stopped their chattering and turned to him. "I'm afraid dear Annabelle is feeling ill so she will be retiring for the evening. She gives her sincerest apologies but wishes all of you to continue to enjoy your evening.

Her words were spoken for her. She no longer had the ability to voice what she thought and if she had, she would have told the guests to choke on their mutton. She hated them. All of them. They were idiotic and had no personality. They flaunted their money and fawned over themselves. Each of them considered themselves the most important person in the world. It was the ego in the room that suffocated her.

Their lifestyle was forced on her since birth. It enclosed her in a prison with no semblance of a hope to escape. _No escape in life._

It was a cold night. The edge of winter still lingered in the air and the man wrapped Annabelle's shall around her shoulders as they stood on the stoop of the elegant five story manor. He leaned in to kiss her but she turned and his lips pressed against her cheek. He sighed and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face.

"Goodnight sweet Annabelle, I will call on you in the afternoon tomorrow to see if you are feeling better," he said and helped her into the coach that was led by a team of four black horses. She stared out the window silently as it sped through the streets of New York.

Tears poured out of her eyes. She let them fall freely now that she was alone. Her heart ached as though it was tearing down the middle. Annabelle covered her mouth in hopes of muffling her scream. Her body shook with her sobs. _No hope of ever really living. I'm so alone. Something is missing in my heart._

As the coach turned a corner her eye caught something out the window. There was the answer to her problems. Looming in the distance.

"Stop!" Annabelle screamed as soon as the thought entered her mind. The coach came to a screeching halt and Annabelle quickly stumbled out of the cab.

"Everything alright?" the driver asked her. Annabelle discreetly wiped the tears from her eyes and composed herself as much as possible.

"I need a bit of fresh air. Will you circle the block and meet me back here in about twenty minutes?" She asked in the sweetest voice she could muster. The driver looked as though he would protest but Annabelle fixed him with a hard stare. Her request became an order. He nodded and flicked the reins and the horses sped off.

As soon as the coach was out of sight, Annabelle broke into a run. Her feet pounded the pavement and her tears once again streamed down her face.

"_Please, please forgive me, but I won't be home again. Maybe someday you'll look up, and, barely conscious, you'll say to no one: "Isn't something missing?_ _You won't cry for my absence, I know -You forgot me long ago. Am I that unimportant...? Am I so insignificant...?Isn't something missing? Isn't someone missing me?_"

Annabelle collapsed against the metal pole. Beyond it lay the Brooklyn bridge. Her salvation. It was late in the night. The streets were nearly empty and Annabelle slowly walked along the sidewalk. She felt the night wrap around her and for the first time in her life she began to feel free in her solitude. Though she was unaware of the pair of eyes watching her.

"_Even though I'm the sacrifice, You won't try for me, not now. Though I'd die to know you love me, I'm all alone. Isn't someone missing me?_"

She stood at the center of the bridge. Her face was wet with tears as she stepped onto the railing. Slowly, she pulled her dress up and swung one leg over the railing, then the other. Her heart beat wildly against her chest as she turned her back to the railing, her hands gripping it on either side of her. The East river raged below her.

"_Please, please forgive me, but I won't be home again. Maybe someday you'll look up, And, barely conscious, you'll say to no one: "Isn't something missing? Even though I'm the sacrifice, You won't try for me, not now. Though I'd die to know you love me, I'm all alone. Isn't someone missing me?_"

Images of her mother and father flashed across her mind. She remembered the way they smelled, she could hear their voices in her mind. Telling her they loved her, but she was too young to know what love was. Then she saw the matching black coffins. The white roses. The portrait in the hall. She had smashed it. It was a pointless object that only reminded her of the life she should have had.

"_And if I bleed, I'll bleed, knowing you don't care. And if I sleep just to dream of you. I'll wake without you there, isn't something missing? Isn't something..." _She took a deep breath and began to let go.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you," a deep male voice broke through the fog of Annabelle's mind. She gasped and instinctively tightened her grip on the railing. She turned her head to see a boy a little older that she was standing behind her.

"Go away!" she said, her voice cracking. Her throat became suddenly dry and she couldn't catch her breath.

"Come on now, let me help ya over the railin' and back on solid ground," the boy said and he took a step toward her.

"Stop, get back!" she yelled. "I'm jumping and you can't stop me. Just go away!" she could hear the frenzy in her voice, but ignored it. Her body was shaking with adrenaline. The boy ignored her protest however and took another step toward her. She turned her head as far as she could to see him. "Stop!" he did. He patted his pockets until he found what he was looking for. He removed a pack of cigarettes and placed one in his mouth. Annabelle didn't notice he was slowly edging toward her.

"Want one?" he asked as he extended his arm and held the packet out. She shook her head and looked down at the water below. "Why not, scared they'll kill ya?" the boy asked with a chuckle.

"Are you making fun of me?" Annabelle asked as she snapped her head toward him. It was then she noticed he was leaning against the railing a few feet from her. He struck a match, lit the cigarette and blew out a puff before speaking.

"Nah, just jokin in general. Besides, if I was about ta jump off a bridge, I'd want a cig before I died. Calm the noives," he answered. "Sides, I'd need ta calm my noives before killin myself in such a painful way. Yous must got guts ta do it like this."

"What do you mean?" Annabelle asked keeping her eyes focused on the strange boy. "Painful how?" The boy turned and leaned his back against the railing and folded his arms across his chest.

"Well," he began, "it aint like you'd be dead when ya hit the water so smackin against it would be like divin head foist into the ground. Hard enough to break some bones, ya know? Then, yous ganna sink into the ice cold water."

"Cold?" Annabelle asked. The boy nodded, took another drag of his cigarette, and tossed it over the edge and they both watched the red spark vanish below them.

"Ya, real cold. Its like needles stabbin ya all over ya body. You can't swim 'cause of the impact of the fall. Then your lungs begin ta burn as you sink deeper and deeper into the dark. Then, if yous don't pass out soon enough yous ganna feel your lung explode in ya chest, and ya body writhe in pain before ya finally drown." The boy looked at her as she starred at the water below. "So, if yous ask my opinion, it aint no way for a goil as pretty as yous ta be dyin. So why don't ya let me help you back over the railin now."

"No," Annabelle said as she began to cry again. "I don't care how painful it is, its worth it to escape them." The boy sighed and subtly moved toward her. He was almost in arms reach, then, even if she did jump, he'd catch her.

"Escape who, doll? Who's got ya so upset that ya ganna kill yaself?" He needed to keep her talking. Keep her focused on him and not on jumping. He moved closer. Almost there.

"Everyone! Their fake smiles, their fake sympathy. I hate them. I hate everyone. I feel so trapped. So alone. I just want to die!"

"Aint you got someone that ya care about? I bet there are lots 'a people that care about you," he said and moved closer. He was finally in arms reach. He was close enough to see her shaking, close enough to hear the chatter of her teeth as she shivered.

"No, you don't understand there is no one. No one cares about me, the real me, they just control me and parade me around. They just want me for my money and my name. I'm alone," her voice dropped to a whisper. He was losing her.

"Then you're lettin them win," he said suddenly. He was changing tactics. "If you jump, then they get ya money without a fight. Ya can't let what other people do control ya! Ya gatta stand up for yaself and fight back!" This seemed to be working. He could see her breathing even and her mind begin to race. "Come on, if ya stick around, ya can show all a them jerks that yous stronger than they give ya credit for." Annabelle sniffled. "Come on," he said gently. Annabelle took in a sharp breath as he whispered in her ear. She hadn't realized he was that close. "Give me your hand." She looked down at his calloused hand as he held it in front of her.

He gently took her left hand into his right and she slowly turned to face him. Annabelle felt her heart skip a beat as her dark gray eyes met his silvery blue ones.

"What's ya name?" he asked in a soft tone. Annabelle had to force her mind to understand his question as a million thoughts raced obtrusively.

"Annabelle, Annabelle Danvers," she said taking a deep breath. The boy grinned and Annabelle felt she may never be able to look away.

"Nice ta meet ya Annabelle, I'm Spot Conlon." She smiled. Not a fake smile, not a forced smile, a real genuine smile. "Come on now, it'll be a nicer conversation if both our feet are on solid ground." Annabelle chuckled despite the situation. She put her hand on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her waist and began lifting her over the railing. Just as she was halfway over, he felt her slipping from his arms.

"Spot!" she screamed as she slipped farther down. The hem of her dress was caught on the lower part of the railing and the more she struggled the farther she fell.

"I got ya," he said and held onto her tighter. She clung to him as he pulled her back. Annabelle whimpered as the fabric refused to give. "Hold on to me," he said and removed a knife from his pocket. She gasped as the silver blade caught the moonlight. "Trust me," he said holding her eyes. She nodded and he cut away at the fabric. It ripped and Annabelle toppled over the railing on top of Spot. Her body shook and he wrapped his arms around her. "Its ok, I got ya now," he whispered as she laid her head on his chest.

"Are you alright?" she asked as she met his eyes. He grinned again and Annabelle became aware of the precarious position they were in. "Oh, I'm sorry," she nearly cried as she rolled off of him. He jumped up quickly and helped her to her feet. Her legs were still trembling and she fell into his embrace.

"No problem," he said looking down at her. He took a moment to study her. She was beautiful. Her dark gray eyes were still red and puffy, her cheeks were flushed, and her chocolate colored hair was flowing wildly around her face. He brushed a strand out of her eyes and wiped a tear from under her eye. He felt her shiver in his arms and he quickly removed his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Where can I walk you to?" he asked.

"Oh," Annabelle said and for the first time she felt incredibly embarrassed. "That's not necessary." Spot looked sternly at her and she quickly adverted her gaze. "I'm sure I can find my own way."

"Ya, so ya can get mugged on ya way home. I think I may have given ya the wrong impression of New York. Not everyone is as nice as I am, doll." Annabelle couldn't help but laugh and Spot took her arm and linked it with his. "Come on, then."

Annabelle felt better once they were off the bridge and slowly making their way through Manhattan toward her home. Annabelle wasn't entirely sure of the way to her house, but Spot seemed to know the streets like the back of his hand. She told him the neighborhood and he grinned as he took the lead.

They walked in silence for a long time and Annabelle began to feel nervous around Spot. He was nearly a head taller than her and she could tell by holding his arm that he was strong. A key hung from a piece of string around his neck, and a gold tipped cane was stuck in his belt loop. His dark blonde hair fell over his silver eyes and made him look almost regal in the moonlight.

"Do I got somethin on my face?" he asked keeping his gaze straight ahead. Annabelle blushed and looked away.

"No, sorry," she mumbled and Spot laughed. They were rapidly approaching her house and Annabelle felt the familiar tightness of her skin and the sinking of her heart. "Is your name really Spot?" she asked suddenly.

"Yes," he said nonchalantly. "Is your name really _Annabelle_?" She would have thought his comment rude, had he not looked down at her with smiling eyes. They stood in front of a tall Victorian style house made of dark red bricks and ivory stone. Spot Whistled as he took it in. "Nice digs." Annabelle couldn't manage to smile at his jest.

"I hate it," she said to herself but Spot overheard. He stood in front of her between her and the large house.

"So I gatta ask," he said, his tone taking a more serious tone. "What did these people do to ya that made ya wanna die?" Annabelle momentarily felt angry at his intrusive question.

"You wouldn't understand," she said softly. Spot stopped her as she was about to walk around him. He took her hand in his and she looked up at him.

"Try me," he insisted. Annabelle sighed and removed her hand from his. She took a step away from him and crossed her arms.

"My whole world is controlled. Every morning I wake up and my day is planned for me. I have no say on whether I sit or stand. I'm not allowed to think for myself, speak for myself. I'm in a prison. I just want to scream!" Annabelle shouted, her words becoming angrier and angrier.

"Easy there," Spot said placing his hands on her shoulders. "I got it." Annabelle tensed and sat down on the curb. Spot sat next to her and watched as a tear rolled down her pale cheek. "Ya talked to ya parents about this?"

"I don't have parents," she said quietly. "They died when I was five." Spot grimaced. "In a fire, it was a long time ago. I don't really remember them. I miss them though; I miss the idea of having parents. Do you have parents?"

"No, mine died a long time ago too." Spot had never told anyone that before. He wondered what had made him say it now. Maybe it was that this girl had been vulnerable with him, or maybe it was that he felt strangely comfortable around her. He wished he didn't. He had never let anyone get close to him. It was a weakness that he couldn't afford to show. "Come on," he said standing up and extending a hand to her. She took it and he noticed she was limping slightly. "What's wrong?" he asked. He helped her sit on the front stair and knelt in front of her. He looked up at her for permission and she nodded. He lifted the hem of her dress and slid it up her leg. Her left knee was skinned and bleeding.

"Ouch," she said as he began pulling her stocking down. His thumb grazed the smooth skin of her calf and Annabelle inadvertently shivered. Spot grinned as he saw the small Goosebumps appear and he took the handkerchief she was handing him. He dabbed at her knee and she winced. Spot gently blew on it sending a new wave of shivers through her. "Thank you." She said as he looked up at her.

"Anytime," he said with a smile. "I guess you should be going inside now. Someone will be looking for you." Annabelle nodded but her heart was constricting.

"Will I see you again?" Spot was surprised by her question. Her eyes pleaded with him. The door to the house suddenly burst opened. The tall, dark-haired man from before stood in the open doorway with a scowl on his face.

" Annabelle, where have you been? I was worried about you…what's going on?" he asked and jogged down the few steps. He saw a strange boy dressed like a Newsie with his hands on Annabelle's knee.

"James," Annabelle said standing up. "I-uh, we, um." Annabelle turned to look at Spot who was starring down James. "I needed some air and stopped the coach. I slipped and skinned my knee. Mr. Conlon was good enough to help me home." Spot looked at Annabelle with surprise and Annabelle gave him a look that begged him to play along.

"Ya, you uh might wanna clean that cut. It looked pretty bad." James stepped between Annabelle and Spot.

"Well then Mr. Conlon, I have you to thank for returning my _fiancé_," James said extending a hand to Spot. He looked at Annabelle but her eyes were on the ground. He shook James's hand, both fighting for the stronger grip. "Go inside dearest. There is a bath prepared for you." Annabelle was about to protest but James gave her a stern look. "Dearest, it's late." Annabelle nodded.

"Goodnight Mr. Conlon, thank you for your assistance." She curtsied and walked into the house. At the doorway she turned and gave Spot a genuine smile. He nodded to her.

"Indeed, goodnight Mr. Conlon. I'm sure you need your rest to sell the morning addition." Spot gave a bitter chuckle and nodded before turning and walking down the street. He looked over his shoulder as James entered the house closing the door behind him. He ducked in the alley next to Annabelle's house and waited.

Ten minutes passed and there was no sound from inside. Time ticked by at a deathly slow pace.

Twenty minutes later, James emerged in his coat and hat. He entered a coach that was parked out front and a driver steered the horses down the street in the opposite direction.

Another ten minutes later and the lights in the house went dark. Still he waited. A light on the third story turned on and he heard a window scrape open. Above him he heard footsteps on the fire escape. He pulled the ladder down and helped Annabelle as she climbed down.

"I wasn't sure if you'd still be here," she said in a slightly breathless voice. He chuckled and leaned against the wall.

"I had ta, you still got my coat." Annabelle blushed and looked back up at the lit window.

"I forgot it in my room," she said feeling guilty that she had not brought it back. Spot grinned and shrugged.

"Tell ya what; ya can give it back ta me tomorrow." Annabelle's face lit up. "We's ganna work on this you not makin decisions for yaself. So tomorrow, ya ganna meet me at Central Park aroun two. Ya got it?"

"I'll try," she said. Spot gave her a stern look. "I'll be there, then." She corrected herself and Spot grinned again.

"Have a good night, Annabelle. I'll see ya tomorrow at two." Annabelle nodded, turned to the fire escape, then back to Spot. She smiled one last time before climbing back up. Spot waited until she was safely inside her room and the light was extinguished before he began the long walk back to Brooklyn. "What a night," he chuckled shaking his head.

**A/N 'Something Missing' by Evanescence.**


	2. Schedule Change

When Annabelle woke the next morning, she rolled onto her side and hugged her feather pillow

When Annabelle woke the next morning, she rolled onto her side and hugged her feather pillow. Images of the previous night flashed through her mind. She could still feel the heaviness of her heart and her revulsion toward her life.

Annabelle closed her eyes and could see the Brooklyn Bridge in her mind. She remembered the feeling of cold steel in her hands as she hung from it. Her body ached from the running and the fall.

_Spot_

She remembered Spot. How he had helped her, saved her. Annabelle buried her face in her pillow as she remembered his eyes. They penetrated hers. It was as though he was looking straight into her soul.

A loud rapping at her bedroom door startled her out of her thoughts. Without invitation, an elderly woman with white hair that was pulled into a tight bun bustled in.

"Alright lazy bones, time to wake up! The day waits for no one," the old woman snapped as she walked to the large wardrobe across the room. Annabelle pulled back the heavy covers and swung her legs out of bed. As her feet hit the cold floor she stumbled and grabbed the poster of the canopy bed to steady herself. "What's this now?"

"Nothing Mrs. Long, I just skinned my knee," Annabelle replied. Mrs. Long scowled at her but continued rummaging through the clothing. Annabelle sat at the vanity mirror and ran a comb through her hair.

"After breakfast you have your Reading lessons with Mr. Archibald. Then Mr. Westchester has called upon you for lunch again. You have a three o'clock appointment to practice piano with Mrs. Douglas. Dinner is promptly served at six, and then you may have time to study and work on your stitching before bed," Mrs. Long stated as she pulled a dark green dress out of the wardrobe.

"Actually," Annabelle said as she stood and Mrs. Long began lacing Annabelle's corset. "I was hoping to visit Central Park this afternoon." Annabelle didn't dare look up at Mrs. Long. She could already see the look of disdain.

"What is the reason for this sudden idea?" Mrs. Long asked in a terse tone. Annabelle took in a sharp breath as Mrs. Long pulled tighter.

"I haven't seen it before and my piano lessons have been going well. I thought perhaps I may take the afternoon off."

"Who will be escorting you?" Mrs. Long inquired as she tied the last of the corset. She helped Annabelle pull the dress on and zipped up the back.

"I would enjoy Mr. Long's company on my walk." Annabelle looked at Mrs. Long with hopeful eyes. The old woman was starring at her with pursed lips as though she were trying to read her mind.

"Alright," Mrs. Long said after a long moment. "I suppose some fresh air will do you good. You are far too pale. It's very unattractive." Annabelle smiled brightly. "Sit down, now, I need to fix your hair."

" '_Some lavender drops, however, which she was at length persuaded to take, were of use; and from that time till Mrs. Jennings returned she continued on the bed quiet and motionless._' The end of chapter two," Annabelle read.

"Well done, Miss Danvers, you're reading is improving," Mr. Archibald, a short round faced man with rosy cheeks and spectacles said as he clapped his hands. "That is all for today. I will see you tomorrow."

"Thank you sir, I look forward to it." Annabelle rose and Mr. Archibald kissed her hand before collecting his books and leaving the study. He was not gone a moment before Mrs. Long entered holding a notebook and wearing her reading glasses.

"That concludes your lesson; you're expected downstairs for lunch. Mr. Winchester is already here." Annabelle nodded and exited the room. She dreaded lunchtime as it was always the part of the day James visited.

She quietly walked down the stairs to the dining room. Upon entering she saw James, and his most trusted servant Mr. Doyle waiting. They stood as she approached and James smiled.

"There you are dearest, you look lovely today." He kissed her cheek and took her hand, gently guiding her to the table.

"Good afternoon James, Mr. Doyle, it is nice to see you again." Annabelle was lying. She hated Mr. Doyle. He was a tall lanky man with dark eyes and a sharp, pointed nose. He carried with him a black top hat and a cherry wood cane with an eagle head for a handle. He glowered all the time and when he did smile on rare occasion, Annabelle distinctly felt a shiver run down her spine. He was an elusive and sinister man who was always lurking about.

"Miss Danvers," Mr. Doyle said bowing his head. Annabelle gestured for them to sit and James pulled her chair out for her. The cook bustled in a moment later and served the food.

"How were your lessons this morning, Darling? Are you quite satisfied with the tutor I recommended?" James asked as he leaned toward her.

"Indeed, Mr. Archibald is a brilliant man. I feel I am learning much from his tutelage," Annabelle said in a droll tone and did not look up at James.

"I am pleased to hear that," James said leaning away from her in dissatisfaction. "Will you play the piano for me today? I am called away to Chicago on business and I desire to hear you sing before I go." Annabelle felt a bubble of joy build in her and she nodded to him with a practiced smile. _Leaving…_

Annabelle sat at the piano in the drawing room, her fingers playing over the keys with near perfection. James and Mrs. Long sat on the ruby colored couch while Mr. Doyle stood near the door with a scowl. He tapped his cane on the wooden floor as though he were waiting impatiently for her to finish.

"_Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white. Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; the firefly wakens: waken thou with me. Now droops the milk white peacock like a ghost, and like a ghost she glimmers on to me. Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars, and all thy heart lies open unto me. Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, and slips into the bosom of the lake: So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip into my bosom and be lost in me."_

When the song ended James and Mrs. Long applauded and Annabelle stood, offering a polite curtsy. James rushed to her side and linked her arm with his.

"Come darling, let's sit and talk. Annabelle resisted a sigh and sat with him across the room on a similarly ruby colored loveseat. "You played quite well, you are improving."

"Thank you," Annabelle said avoiding eye contact with him. James placed his hand over hers that were folded in her lap. She cringed and slipped her hands out of his.

"Why do you reject me, so?" he asked as he dropped his voice to a whisper so Mrs. Long and Mr. Doyle, who were conversing, would not overhear. "Have I not been careful in my advances? Have I been ungentlemanly in some way?"

"No, James, you have been kind to me," Annabelle said softly. "In all manners you have been nothing but gentlemanly." James was quiet for a moment.

"You've been acting strangely since last night. Something must be the matter." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. "I will leave you for now. Mrs. Long has invited Mr. Doyle and I for dinner. I will see you then." He stood, kissed her forehead and left the room, Mr. Doyle following faithfully at his side.

"Come along," Mrs. Long said. "If you still want to see Central Park you'll have to leave promptly. It is already almost two thirty." Annabelle blanched. She stood quickly and ran from the room. "Do not run child!" Mrs. Long scolded, but Annabelle was already bounding up the stairs toward her room.

She threw the door to her room open and on her bed, folded neatly and wrapped in a brown parcel, was Spot's coat. She had one of the maids wash it the night before and bring it back to her room.

"Annabelle!" Mrs. Long said in a slightly breathless voice as she stumbled into the room. Annabelle hid the parcel behind her back. "What has gotten into you? It is improper for a young lady to run indoors."

"I am sorry, I was excited." Annabelle said quickly. She walked to her wardrobe, careful to keep the parcel out of view, as she grabbed her coat.

Mr. Long was Mrs. Long's elder brother. He was a tall man with white hair and kind brown eyes. In every way that his sister was a scowling prude, he was a smiling and kind man. He wore a long brown coat with tails over his crisp white shirt, brown vest and tie. His clothing was always clean, but his hands were calloused and he smelled of pipe tobacco and hay.

Mr. Long oversaw the stables that held the Danvers family horses and he also personally drove Annabelle's coach. Of all the people in Annabelle's acquaintance, she cared for Mr. Long the most. He was not a talkative man, but when he did speak, he was genuine and respectful.

The Long's were the Danvers' oldest servants. Mrs. Long was Annabelle's nurse from the time she was born until present. When Annabelle's parents were killed in a house fire when she was five, the Long's became her guardians as Annabelle had no living relatives in America. The rest of her family lived in Europe and had no desire to move to America to care for a girl they had never met because Annabelle had been born in New York.

"Mr. Long," Annabelle beamed as she walked down the steps of the house. The kind man removed his hat and smiled as she kissed him on the cheek.

"Good afternoon," he said with smiling eyes. He helped Annabelle into the carriage before taking his place atop the carriage in the driver's seat.

"I expect you two back by five o'clock. Mr. Winchester and Mr. Doyle will be here promptly at six." Mrs. Long said from outside the coach. Annabelle nodded and waved to her as they sped off.

"We'd best hurry, ma'am. The sky is already growing dark with rain clouds," Mr. Long called back to her.

It was another fifteen minutes before they arrived at the southern entrance to the Park. Mr. Long pulled the coach to a stop and climbed down to help Annabelle out of the carriage, but she was already out by the time he joined her.

"Such enthusiasm, you seem very eager to be out. Are you expecting to meet someone?" he inquired as he raised a heavy eyebrow. Annabelle chuckled nervously.

"Of course not, I'm just excited to see the Park." She lied. Mr. Long nodded, but she was sure he suspected something because he stared at her out of the corner of his eye as they walked.

Annabelle looked all around in every direction as they walked the paved path. It was already three thirty and she feared Spot would have left. It wasn't until they neared the Eastern entrance of the Park that Annabelle noticed a familiar looking Newsie selling a paper to a gentleman.

"Would you like a newspaper, Mr. Long?" Annabelle asked. Mr. Long was nearly seventy years old and he had a limp in his left leg.

"Why yes, thank you Miss Danvers," he said as he sat on a park bench. Annabelle took the penny he handed her and walked quickly toward the Newsie, the parcel tucked under her arm.

"Ship crashes into Manhattan docks, hundreds dead!" he cried. His back was to Annabelle and he turned as he felt someone approach. A grin spread across his face as he saw her. "I was beginnin ta think yous wasn't comin." He teased, the gold tip of his cane catching a ray of light that penetrated the thick clouds.

"I was delayed. Forgive me." She said quickly. He chuckled and removed his hat. "Here," she said handing him the parcel. He took it and opened it.

"Ah, ya even had it washed. Thanks Doll." He said putting the coat on. Annabelle felt heat rush to her face. "So, yous got time ta go for a walk?" he inquired. Annabelle glanced over her shoulder at Mr. Long who was watching her intently. "That ya warden?"

"Oh, no, he's a friend. Speaking of, can I purchase a paper, please?" Spot grinned again as though she had told a joke, but he handed her a paper in exchange for a penny. "I'll be back in a moment," she said and walked quickly back to Mr. Long. "Here you are." Mr. Long took the paper from her with a smile. "Mr. Long, surely you heard of my unusual evening last night." Mr. Long nodded that he had. "Well it seems that the Newsie that aided my return is the very one I purchased the paper from. I was hoping it would be alright if I walked with him for a bit."

"Ah," Mr. Long said nodding his head as though he finally understood something he had been puzzling over. "My sister would not condone that." Annabelle dropped her gaze. "I suppose it is good she is not here then. Don't be too long, Miss. I'll be here if you need anything." Annabelle smiled brightly and kissed him on the cheek before practically running back to Spot.

"A walk would be splendid," Annabelle said once she reached Spot. He smiled and began walking along the path, Annabelle at his side.

Neither of them spoke for nearly five minutes. It was an awkward and uncomfortable silence. Annabelle kept stealing glances at Spot, wondering what she could say. She contemplated of remarking on the weather, but thought that stupid. Perhaps asking about the life of a Newsie, but that would be too personal. Then, without thinking, she opened her mouth and said the first thing that came out.

"Thank you," she blurted. Spot looked at her and raised an eyebrow as if to inquire what she meant. Annabelle looked away from him and down at her shoes. "I mean…last night, I-um….thank you."

"Anytime," he said looking at her intently. Another uncomfortable silence began to occur, but Spot quickly countered it. "So, where's your fiancé?" he asked. Annabelle wished he hadn't.

"Probably at the office, he owns a law firm. Or, rather his family does." Spot nodded and stuffed his hands in his pocket.

"Aint ya rather young ta be engaged? Not that it's any of me business, but ya seem young." It was Annabelle's turn to nod.

"I'll be eighteen in two months. James and I are to marry two weeks before my birthday. That way the money I inherit will become his. It was a condition of my parents Will. I receive the family inheritance on my eighteenth birthday."

"You don't seem too happy about marryin this guy." Spot noticed. "Do you love him?" he questioned. Annabelle looked at him in surprise. "Just askin."

"That's a rather personal question," Annabelle said in offence. Spot turned off the path and leaned against a nearby tree.

"It's just a question. Either ya love him or ya don't." Annabelle began pacing in front of him as he lit a cigarette. Annabelle was surprised by his impropriety. She was used to men asking for permission to smoke around her, to which she always said no.

"Well, I…He was chosen for me, it was arranged by my guardian at an early age. We've been engaged for a year now."

"Ya still haven't answered my question," Spot said and blew out a puff of smoke. "Do ya love him?" Annabelle stopped pacing, looked at Spot who's face was unreadable, and then adverted her eyes.

"I don't know," Annabelle answered. Spot folded his arms across his chest as he blew out another puff of smoke.

"Seems ta me that if ya love a guy, ya know. So I's guessin that ya answer is 'no'." Annabelle scowled at Spot.

"How would you know? You presume to know my feelings when in fact you know nothing about me!" Annabelle snapped. Spot pushed himself off the tree and stood directly in front of her.

"I know that ya'd rather jump off a bridge than marry this guy, that's gatta say somethin." Annabelle opened her mouth to say something back, but no words came out. She closed her mouth, opened it again, but still no words came. "Exactly." Spot said and tossed the cigarette on the ground, crushing it with the toe of his boot.

"To be honest, I really wouldn't know." Annabelle said in a defeated voice. Spot studied her with piercing eyes. "I wouldn't know what love was." Annabelle sat on the bench under the tree and kept her eyes focused on the ground. Spot sat next to her and rested his arm on the back of the wooden bench.

"Somethin tells me that when ya ganna love someone, ya know that ya love 'em. Ya don't gatta guess, or talk yaself inta it. Ya just know."

"I didn't take you for a romantic, Spot." Spot chuckled as Annabelle looked up at him. He starred into her dark gray eyes for moment. Her eyes were wide with innocence and were brilliantly offset by her curly dark brown hair.

"Who said anythin about romance, I'm just sayin, if ya love someone, you'll know."

"Have you ever been in love?" Spot nearly lost his calm exterior, but he covered it with a shrug. "I thought you said that if you love someone you know."

"I guess I did, didn't I." Spot looked up at the sky as he felt a splash on his hand. The sky was opening up and large raindrops were beginning to fall. "Guess that's my cue to walk ya back."

They stood and quickly walked back to where Mr. Long was sitting. Spot followed them as they walked to the coach parked outside the gate to the Park. Mr. Long had his umbrella open and held it over Annabelle's head as he helped her in. She stopped and turned to look at Spot who was standing at the entrance as though it weren't raining. Annabelle ran back to him, despite Mr. Long calling for her.

"Spot?" she asked loudly so as not to be drown out by the now pouring rain. "What's it like? To be in love?" she asked quickly before her bashfulness could stop her. Spot looked as though he were thinking for a moment.

"It's like falling. Ya scared and excited all at the same time. Can't catch ya breath, can't think a nothin else," he answered. Annabelle nodded, her heart aching inside her chest.

"Can I see you again?" she asked. Mr. Long had joined them now, holding the umbrella over her head. Annabelle looked between Spot and Mr. Long quickly.

"I spose I could find a reason to sell in the park around this time tomorrow." Annabelle nodded and began walking back to the coach. "Annabelle," Spot called and she turned to look at him. "I'll see ya tomorrow." She smiled and entered the coach.

**A/N music taken from Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal by Lord Alfred Tennyson**


	3. Possession of Hope

**A/N **Annabelle's singing part will be in _italics_**. **James's will be **bolded. **

Mrs. Long was furious when she saw the state Annabelle was in. Her clothes were nearly ruined they were so wet and her hair was a tangled mess. Annabelle was sent straight to her room and a maid came in a moment later to help her dry her hair and pick out a new dress.

When she was in a clean dress and her hair dried and styled, Annabelle entered the dining room. James and Mr. Doyle greeted her and she forced a smile on her face. Again, James pulled the chair out for her before taking his seat to her right. Mrs. Long joined them, sitting next to Mr. Doyle across the table from the couple.

Annabelle quietly ate her soup while keeping her gaze focused on the table. The room was completely silent except for the scraping of spoons on bowls.

"Mr. Long seems refreshed after the walk you two had this afternoon," Mrs. Long said disrupting the silence.

"You went for a walk? I thought you had piano lessons in the afternoons." James said turning his steely eyes to Annabelle. She opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off.

"On normal days she does, but this morning she inquired if she and Mr. Long could take a walk in Central Park to 'get some air'. I thought it rather unusual, but after last nights troublesome affairs, I thought it appropriate time for Annabelle to settle with her thoughts. Lord knows Mr. Long needs the fresh air as well," Mrs. Long interjected.

"I could have taken you for a walk, Annabelle. I would have enjoyed spending the extra time with you," James said in what seemed like an almost hurt tone. Again, Annabelle opened her mouth to reply, and again Mrs. Long cut her off.

"I'm sure Annabelle didn't want to trouble you with the occasion. She knows how busy you are at the office these days," Mrs. Long said. "Besides, a young woman often needs to find time to sneak away with her thoughts."

"Annabelle has never shown sign of desiring to '_sneak away with her thoughts_' as longs as I've known her," James said, now directing his comments to Mrs. Long. Annabelle could tell he was drawing close to losing his temper and her stomach churned in fear.

"Well after last nights chaos, her skinned knee, that ill mannered Newsie, she had much to ponder. And not to mention, you two will be wed in two months. She is nervous. A young bride always is."

"Your reasons can be understood, but I still cannot see the reason in why I was not informed of her whereabouts. As her fiancé I have every right to know where she is at all times," James's voice was getting louder.

"James," Annabelle said standing up. "Would you allow me to play you a piano forte? I fear because I missed a rehearsal that I will digress in my progress." James's scowl turned into a smile.

"Yes my dear," he said taking her hand and kissing it. "I would like nothing better than to hear you sing for me." As everyone stood to walk to the drawing room, he held her hand firmly, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "We'll talk about this _problem_ later." Annabelle felt a sinking of her heart, a sharpness in her stomach, and her eyes widened with fear. James was angry with her.

X

Annabelle kept her eyes focused entirely on the black and white keys in front of her. She'd been playing the piano for nearly two hours now. She wanted to stop, but as soon as she finished a song, James would make another request. Mrs. Long began to grow tired and her eyes drooped.

Annabelle finished playing and the three listeners applauded. She stood, curtsied and made to sit down but James held his hand up.

"Play another," he said shortly, taking another sip from his Brandy glass. Already the bottle was two thirds of the way empty. Annabelle looked to Mrs. Long for assistance, pleading the woman with her eyes to let her sit.

"Oh well, the hour is far too late. I shall retire for the evening." Annabelle sighed in relief. "Annabelle, I trust you to keep our guests entertained." Annabelle resisted a scowl. "Gentlemen," Mrs. Long said and moved from the room quickly. James turned to Annabelle with an expectant look on his face. She sighed and sat back down at the piano.

After choosing a forte by Chopin, she plunked away meticulously. It was a challenging piece, but she soon finished, this time with no applause.

"Another, play another," James insisted. Annabelle only sat there. Her fingers were red and slightly swollen. "I said, play another."

"I'm tired," Annabelle said quietly. "I'd like to stop playing now." When a stretch of silence passed, she looked up. Immediately, she wished she hadn't. James's face was cold, stern, and his eyes were hollow. He nodded his head and Mr. Doyle left the room, the door eerily clicking shut behind him. Slowly, James stood and stalked to her. Annabelle felt her heart slamming against her chest with fear.

"When I tell you to play the piano," James said as he stood directly behind her. "I expect to hear nothing from you except the melody of your lovely voice singing." His words were calm, distinct, and frightening. James placed his hands on Annabelle's shoulders. "Now, play the song you played for me this afternoon." When Annabelle hesitated, his grip on her shoulders tightened painfully.

Instantly her fingers began playing. She fumbled over the keys and she began making several mistakes.

"_Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white. Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; the firefly wakens: waken thou with me…._" She stopped playing when she felt James lean in and smell her hair. "_Now droops the milk white peacock like a ghost, and like a ghost she glimmers on to me…"_ Annabelle shuddered as James kissed her neck. His hands slid down her arms and took her hands in his.

"Remember that you only play for me," he whispered in her ear, his breath rank with alcohol. "Only for me. You are mine Annabelle, never forget that." Tears sprang to her eyes as he began pushing the sleeve of her dress off her shoulder, his lips leaving kisses on the exposed skin.

"Stop it!" she shrieked as she jumped from her seat. "You're drunk!" James stood to his full height and starred at her. Annabelle felt her legs begin to tremble.

"I may be drunk," James began as he stalked toward her, "but if the alcohol has done anything, it has only removed the propriety that has been standing between us." He grabbed her by her upper arms, a shrill cry coming from her. "Annabelle," he breathed and leaned in to kiss her. She turned away from him and he shook her. "Look at me!" he ordered. When she wouldn't, he pushed her up against the piano and took her face in his hands.

Annabelle tried to scream, but it was cut off by James's rough lips against her. He crushed her against the piano with his body. Annabelle pushed him with all her strength. He scowled, but as he stepped toward her again she slapped him and ran for the door. James easily caught her, spun her to face him and backhanded her.

Annabelle collapsed to the floor clutching her face, hot tears pouring from her eyes. James knelt over her and Annabelle cringed, her sobs echoing in the room. She scurried to her feet and fled the room. James's heavy footsteps thundered behind her. She made it to her room, slammed the door and locked it. Annabelle whimpered as she leaned against the door. James pounded his fist against the thick wood.

"_Stoplight, lock the door. Don't look back. Undress in the dark, and hide from you, all of you. You'll never know the way your words have haunted me. I can't believe you'd ask these things of me. You don't know me."_

"**You belong to me, my snow white queen. There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over. Soon I know you'll see, you're just like me. Don't scream anymore my love, 'cause all I want is you." **James pounded on the door again.

"_Wake up in a dream, frozen fear. All your hands on me. I can't scream I can't escape the twisted way you think of me. I feel you in my dreams and I don't sleep." _Annabelle sank to the floor, clutching her knees to her chest, tears pouring from her eyes.

"**You belong to me, my snow white queen. There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over. Soon I know you'll see, you're just like me. Don't scream anymore my love, 'cause all I want is you."**

"_Can't save my life, though nothing I bleed for is more tormenting. I'm losing my mind and you just stand there and stare as my world divides._"

"**You belong to me, my snow white queen. There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over. Soon I know you'll see, you're just like me. Don't scream anymore my love, 'cause all I want is you."** James leaned against the door from the opposite side. "You belong to me, Annabelle. You'll do as I say. Or I'll kill you." He had used the calm tone again; the one that froze her blood the icicles in her veins stabbing at her heart. And then he was gone, but his words lingered.

X

Annabelle slowly opened her eyes. Sometime in the night she had crawled to her bed. Not bothering to change, she lay on top of the blankets and cried herself to sleep.

For a moment she had allowed herself to hope that her life could change, that one day she could be free. Then, just like that, the prison walls fell around her again. She was alone. Trapped. Scared. Alone.

Mrs. Long bustled in like she always did, and began rambling off Annabelle's schedule for the day. She simply laid there, her eyes closed, praying to God that he would let her die.

"Child, have you heard a word I've said?" Mrs. Long asked walking around the bed to look at her. Annabelle didn't open her eyes until she felt Mrs. Long shake her. "Look at you, still in your dress from last night, what is the matter with you? Get up! Get up!" Reluctantly, Annabelle got up. She stripped of her dress and sat at the vanity mirror. Her face was slightly swollen on the left side but there was no bruise. She almost wished there was.

"I'd like to go for a walk in Central Park again today," Annabelle said as Mrs. Long handed her a dark purple dress.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Long chirped. "Missing lessons two days in a row, unthinkable! You'll go to your piano lessons as is scheduled." Annabelle wanted to argue. She desperately wanted to turn to the woman and scream that she was leaving. But something in her spirit had been broken the night before. So she remained silent "Don't forget Mr. Winchester will be leaving for Chicago today. He said he would stop by after breakfast to say good bye to you." Annabelle felt both relief and dread. He'd be gone for a week at least. But she still had to face him. And he would always return.

_You belong to me, Annabelle…You'll do as I say…Or I'll kill you…_

Annabelle didn't eat a bite of her food. Her stomach was turning into too many knots. She felt like the air was heavy. She was suffocating again. And this time was worse than before.

The door to the dining room burst open and Mr. Doyle and James entered. Mrs. Long stood and greeted them.

"We cannot stay, I just came to say good bye to my dearest fiancé." James said in a cheery voice. All semblance of the monster from the previous night had vanished.

Annabelle was the last to exit the house. She stood on the top stair with Mrs. Long at her side. James took her hand and led her down the stairs so they stood more privately in front of James' coach.

"Do not frown, my dear, I'll return soon, a month at the most" he said in a gentile tone. He lifted his hand to her face and she flinched. He ignored it and held her face in his hand. "Kiss me farewell?" he inquired. Before Annabelle could speak, his cold lips were on hers. She stood there, too scared to move. "Goodbye for now," he whispered and waved to Mrs. Long before entering the coach. Mr. Doyle glared at her as he entered the coach and Annabelle slowly walked back into the house.

"He'll return soon enough. Now to focus on your lessons, Mr. Archibald will be waiting for you," Mrs. Long said as she closed the front door.

"Mr. Doyle," James said from inside the coach. "My fiancé has been acting strangely. Watch her for me while I'm gone."

"Yes sir."

X

Annabelle starred out the window of the coach as Mr. Long drove her to her piano lessons. Tears filled her eyes as the coach turned onto the Brooklyn Bridge. Her hand twitched toward the handle. She could do it. Slip out of the coach. Jump before anyone stopped her. Her eyes darted to Mr. Long and her hand landed on the handle. She began to turn it.

"Is everything alright Miss?" Mr. Long asked from the driver's seat. They had taken the roofless coach as it was such a warm day so he was able to turn and look at her out of the corner of his eye. Her hand went back to her lap. "You're been awful quiet."

"Yes, Mr. Long. I'm just not very excited to be going to lessons today." It was partly true. Her fingers were still sore from the night before. She didn't want to improve her playing. She would only be getting better for _him_. Mr. Long gave her a sympathetic look, but he drove on.

X

Annabelle lay awake that night. She starred at the flickering flames of the candle on her nightstand. Everyone had been in bed for over an hour, but she found she couldn't sleep. What would the morning be like? Cold, empty…hollow.

"_Early morning she wakes up knock, knock, knock on the door. It's time for makeup perfect smile. It's who they're all waiting for. They go, isn't she lovely, this rich heiress girl. And they say she's so lucky, she's a star, but she cry, cry, cries in her lonely heart, thinking: If there is nothing missing in my life, then why do these tears come at night._ She kept picturing the Bridge in her mind. She wondered if she could remember the way. Perhaps she could sneak there now.

"_Lost in an image, in her dream, but there's no one there to wake her up. And the world is spinning, and she keeps on winning, but tell me what happens when it stops? They go… 'Isn't she lovely, this rich heiress girl?' And they say she's so lucky, she's a star, but she cry, cry, cries in her lonely heart, thinking: If there is nothing missing in my life, then why do these tears come at night._ No one would be there to stop her this time. She could do it. Escape. Finally be free. _Spot_… He couldn't save her. She didn't want to be saved. She just wanted to die. She wanted it all to end.

"_Isn't she lucky, this rich heiress girl? She's so lucky, but why does she cry? If there's nothing missing in her life, why do these tears come at night? And they say she's so lucky, she's a star, but she cry, cry, cries in her lonely heart, thinking: If there is nothing missing in my life, then why do these tears come at night. She's so lucky, she's a star, but she cry, cry, cries in her lonely heart, thinking: If there is nothing missing in my life, then why do these tears come at night_."

Annabelle's eyes darted to the window as she heard a tapping noise. It happened again a moment later. She sat up and walked to the window. She looked out onto the fire escape, but there was nothing there. She jumped as a rock hit the window. After a moment she slid the window open and stuck her head out.

"Annabelle?" they called. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dark, but when they did she saw someone standing on the ground below.

"Spot?" she asked, recognizing the voice and the familiar glint of gold as it reflected the moonlight. "What are you doing here?"

"I waited for you all day! What happened?" Annabelle sighed but didn't answer. "Annabelle?"

"Just go away Spot." She ducked back inside and slid the window shut. She blew out the candle and as she was climbing into bed, she heard a loud knocking on the window.

"Annabelle, open up!" She gasped as she saw Spot standing on the fire escape outside her window. She quickly threw on a silk robe and walked to the window. Spot slid it open from the outside, his face looked stern. "What's the matta with ya? I's waited all day and now ya just ganna tell me ta get lost without even givin me an explanation?"

"Spot, you shouldn't be out here, it isn't proper!" she snapped. Spot grinned and stepped onto the windowsill.

"Then let me in." Annabelle pushed him back and climbed out onto the fire escape. "I thought not."

"I'm sorry you waited all day, but I won't be able to come visit you anymore." Annabelle wasn't able to look at him.

"Alright then," Spot said casually. Annabelle looked at him in surprise. Did he really care so little? "I'll tell ya what, I'll leave ya alone from now on… if you tell me why you didn't come today."

"I had piano lessons." She wasn't lying. It was the truth. Mostly. "So will you please go now?"

"No, I want the real reason. I wanna know why yous were ganna jump off the bridge one day, and then take a stroll in the park with me the next, and now ya back to wantin ta jump off a bridge. What's the real reason?"

"I-" Annabelle started but she couldn't think of anything to say, so she told the truth. "I proposed the idea of going to the Park again, but Mrs. Long said it wouldn't be right because I had missed my lessons yesterday."

"And who is this _Mrs. Long_ and why does she get ta tell ya what to do?" Spot folded his arms across his chest and Annabelle couldn't help but feel she was in trouble with him.

"She's my guardian. She's been my nurse since I was born, she takes care of me, keeps my schedule, and tends to the house…" Annabelle stopped when Spot broke into laughter. "What? Why are you laughing at me?"

"Let's get this straight, she works for you…and you follow _her_ orders? Aint it supposed ta be the other way around?" Annabelle had nothing to say to that. He was right. She had never thought of it that way. Mrs. Long was employed by her, paid by her. "Look, Annabelle, I aint got the slightest idea what kinda life you richies got, I'm a workin man and will be till the day I die, but somethin just don't seem right when a gal like you aint runnin her own life, but instead, her life is bein run by a bunch a people who seem ta not care bout ya happiness."

"You're right," Annabelle said. It was a moment of realization for her. She was almost eighteen years old and had never made a decision for herself. A new found sense of determination overcame her. But then, it was squelched. She pictured James in her mind. The sting in her cheek returned and her hand went to her face. "James…" she said quietly. "My fiancé, he wouldn't want me to see you."

"Well it doesn't really matta what he wants," Spot said turning her to look at him. "It matta's what you want." He caught her eye and Annabelle felt like she couldn't look away. _His eyes sparkle in the moonlight_. "What do _you_ want? What choices would _you_ make?"

"I…I want to pick out my own clothes in the morning," she said with a laugh. "I want to tell Mr. Archibald his breath smells horrible." She began to list off, a smirk playing on Spot's face. "I want to run in the halls! I want to tell Mrs. Long to go sit on a pin cushion! I never want to go to piano lessons again! I want James to never return from Chicago! And I want you." Annabelle saw Spot's eyebrow quirk. "I mean, I want you to be my friend." Spot let her comment go, but the smirk never left his face.

"So what's stoppin ya from gettin all of that?" Annabelle sighed and turned away from him. "Ya can tell me," he encouraged.

"I'm afraid. I'm scared of James and what he would do to me if he ever found out. I'm scared Mrs. Long would leave. I know she can be horrible, but she's the closest thing I've ever had to a mother since mine…"

"Hey," Spot said turning her around. "Ya can't let ya fear control ya. Ya gatta do what's right for you, no matter what anyone else thinks."

"That's good advice, Spot. Thank you," Annabelle said sincerely. Spot smiled, and placed a finger under her chin.

"Don't hang ya head for no one." Annabelle smiled, a small tear rolling from the corner of her eye. "I expect ta see ya in the Park tomorrow. Same time." Annabelle nodded and did something out of the norm. She hugged him. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. "Don't you go gettin soft on me now," he teased.

"Never," she chided and stepped back from him. He studied her face for a moment. "What? Why are you starring?" she inquired.

"Never noticed how long your hair was," he brushed his fingers along a strand as emphasis and Annabelle blushed. "Goodnight, Annabelle," he said as he helped her back inside.

"Goodnight Spot," she waited for him to climb down the fire escape before collapsing on her bed, a bright smile on her face.

**A/N 'Snow White Queen' by Evanescence slight lyrical change in Annabelle's last part. And 'Lucky' by Brittney Spears, lyrical change from 'hollywood girl' to 'rich heiress girl'.**


	4. Determined to Stand

A/N so I know the Newsie strike took place in July, but I'm going to change it to May

**A/N so I know the Newsie strike took place in July, but I'm going to change it to May. I already established what season it was and I didn't want to have to go back and change the chapters I already posted, make you guys reread it, just to post this chapter. Trying to avoid confusion. Hope you guys are ok with that. If not, go ahead and yell at me…lol. I don't mind flamage as long as it has some merit and truth to it ******

Annabelle was awake before Mrs. Long came into her room. She was already in her navy blue dress and beginning to lace up her boots as the elderly woman entered.

"Good heavens child, up so early? This is a rarity. What are you wearing, I'd hoped you'd wear your brown dress today," Mrs. Long said making a tsking sound in her throat. Annabelle took in a deep breath.

"I like this dress; I've decided to wear it today," Annabelle said firmly. She cast a hesitant look at Mrs. Long who was picking up dirty clothes.

"Well, I suppose you've already put it on. It is a rather nice color on you, but I still say you are too pale. Perhaps I'll pick up some rose blush in town today." Annabelle smiled as she sat at her vanity mirror and ran a comb through her hair. _That wasn't so hard. _She pulled the top part back, using a diamond clip to fasten it and let her hair cascade down her back and around her shoulders in wavy curls. "Let me," Mrs. Long said and began to pin Annabelle's hair up.

"I've decided to wear it down today," Annabelle said in the same determined voice. Mrs. Long scowled at her.

"Wear it down? But the fashion of the time calls to wear it up. Your curls are lovely when they are bound up," Mrs. Long protested.

"And they are lovely when they are down. It gives me a headache to have them so tightly pinned up. Sometimes I can barely think," Annabelle countered.

"Alright then, child. My you are full of spirit this morning," Mrs. Long said in an exasperated voice. "After breakfast Mr. Archibald will be bringing over his Atlas as you will be studying geography today. Cook is preparing roast beef sandwiches for lunch and then Mr. Long will drive you to your piano lessons. Upon your return you will finish your studies, practice piano and after supper you can work on your crocheting." Annabelle looked at Mrs. Long in the mirror. This was the big one.

_Spot_.

"No," Annabelle said clearly. Mrs. Long turned to her in surprise. "I will not be attending piano lessons today. Mr. Long will be driving me to Central Park and there he and I will go for a walk." It was partly true. Mr. Long would drive her to Central Park and she was sure there would be walking involved.

"Oh are you now? Was I too lax in letting you off one day that you think it is a luxury you can call upon at anytime? I think not. You will attend your lessons as is scheduled." Part of Annabelle wanted to remain silent, apologize for speaking out of turn, but another part fought to the surface. Always following orders was killing her. Now, she fought for survival. She fought for a life she desperately want to call her own.

"No I won't. I hate those lessons. I have no desire to be a concert pianist or even play as a hobby. I am going for a walk in Central Park with Mr. Long this afternoon." Annabelle stood as she spoke. Mrs. Long gaped at her for a moment.

"What has gotten into you Annabelle? You're acting strangely. I should call the doctor." Mrs. Long said her brows knit together in confusion. Annabelle sighed in frustration.

"_Don't tell me what to think. 'Cause I don't care this time. Don't tell me what to believe 'cause you won't be there to catch me when I fall. You'll need me when I'm not here at all, miss me when I'm gone again_," Annabelle clenched her fist at her side and turned to face Mrs. Long. "_I'm going down in flames I'm falling into this again. I'm going down into flames I'm falling into this again_."

"Oh nonsense," Mrs. Long said waving her hands as if to dismiss her. Annabelle took Mrs. Long by the shoulders and starred into her eyes.

"_Don't tell me how life is 'cause I don't really want to know don't tell me how this game ends we'll just see how its goes catch me when I fall or you'll need me when I'm not here at all, miss me when I'm gone again. I'm going down in flames I'm falling into this again I'm going down into flames I'm falling into this again_.

"_Now, I won't wait here I've fallen. I won't wait, I won't wait here. I've fallen down again. I'm falling down. I'm falling down. I'm falling down. I'm going down in flames; I'm falling into this again. I'm going down into flames; I'm falling into this again. I won't wait here I've fallen. I won't wait, I won't wait here. I've fallen down again. I'm falling down._

"And if you don't start letting me lead my own life, it will kill me." Mrs. Long was shocked, to say the least.

"I'll inform Mr. Long of the schedule change," Mrs. Long said before bustling from the room. Annabelle squeaked and smiled to herself. She spun in a circle and clapped her hands.

"I did it!"

X

Not soon enough for Annabelle's liking, Mr. Long was helping her into the coach and heading toward Central Park. She was practically bouncing in her seat. Her eagerness to tell Spot how she had confronted Mrs. Long was nearly driving her to run all the way to Central Park.

Mr. Long stopped the coach at the southern entrance and offered Annabelle his hand to help her out. Annabelle smiled as she saw Spot selling a gentleman a paper outside the entrance under the archway. Mr. Long followed her gaze and a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"Isn't that the same Newsie from the other day?" Mr. Long asked as he turned his playfully sparkling eyes to her. Annabelle looked up at Mr. Long and he winked at her.

"I believe it is," she said with a fond smile. Mr. Long held out his arm and Annabelle took it as they walked toward Spot. He had noticed Annabelle walking toward him and removed his hat.

"I'll take a paper young man," Mr. Long said in his raspy yet cheerful tone. Spot handed him one in exchange for a penny. "I think I'll find a nice shady place to read this, do you mind Miss Danvers?"

"Not at all, Mr. Long," Annabelle answered and she walked with him, past Spot, inside the park until they reached a small bench near a bird bath. "I think I'll just walk around for a little while." Mr. Long nodded to her and Annabelle slowly made her way back to the archway, but she didn't see Spot. She looked around until she heard a familiar chuckle.

"Lookin for someone?" Annabelle turned around and saw Spot standing behind her. Annabelle tried to hide the smile on her face but failed.

"Maybe I was. No one said it was you, however," Spot placed a hand over his heart in mock pain and Annabelle giggled. "Alright, it was you, if you must know."

"Glad ya could make it today, I had my doubts." The two began walking along the path that looped around the park. "So's I take it everything went well this mornin?"

"Oh Spot, you should have heard me!" Annabelle exclaimed. "I really told Mrs. Long. For the first time in my life I selected my own dress this morning, I styled my hair the way _I_ wanted to, and when Mrs. Long listed off my schedule for the day, I said 'No, I will _not_ be attending piano lessons today. Mr. Long will be driving me to Central Park and there he and I will go for a walk'. You should have seen her face! I thought her eyes were going to fall right out of her head!" Annabelle rambled on and she had even become animated in her gestures. Her excitement was radiating. Spot chuckled again and Annabelle turned around, as she had taken a few steps in front of him, to look him in the eye. "Aren't you proud of me?"

"Ya Annabelle," he said stepping up to her. "I'm very proud of ya." He fingered a strand of her hair, brushing it out of her face and Annabelle's cheeks turned pink. "So what are ya ganna do with this new found sense of freedom?" Spot asked as they continued to walk.

"I hadn't really thought about it. I suppose I can do anything I want for now. Why I could climb that tree…if I felt like it," Annabelle said smiling.

"What do ya mean _for now_?" Spot inquired. Annabelle had been hoping he had missed that part, but Spot never missed a thing.

"James is out of town on business for a few weeks. He will be displeased when he returns…" Annabelle wanted to tell Spot about how James had hit her, but she was embarrassed. Ashamed. Scared.

"Well," Spot said after a long pause. "He's gone for now, and who knows, maybe by the time he gets back, you'll have the courage ta tell him to sod off."

"Spot!" Annabelle said slapping his arm. "I would never tell someone to…to…well, you know. That's no proper language for a lady or a gentleman to use." Spot shrugged, a small smile on his face.

"Your kinda cute when you're all flustered," he teased and Annabelle swatted his arm again. "Ow," he said rubbing his arm. "Didn't take you for the violent type, Annabelle. I think I may have to keep my guard up aroun' ya."

"Oh, you just like to tease me, is all," she said stomping her foot on the ground in a rather childlike manner.

"Excuse me, one paper please," a man said walking up to Spot. Annabelle stepped aside and Spot pulled a paper from his rather large stack and handed it to the man. "Thank you." He tipped his hat to Annabelle and walked off.

"Am I interrupting you?" Annabelle asked suddenly very self conscious. Spot shrugged. "Well here, why don't you sell me a paper and I'll read it while you finish, then we can talk with no urgency."

"One pape, comin up," he said handing it to her. "On the house," he said winking at her. Annabelle would have retorted had her stomach not leapt into her throat. She only managed to half smile at him before walking to a bench underneath a tree. She opened the paper and skimmed it, but found her eyes trailing over the top of the paper to Spot who was calling out headlines to a group of nearby people. Her eyes darted back to the paper, however, when Spot felt her watching him and smiled at her.

The weather had finally begun to turn nice. It was late May already, but it seemed New York weather was always a month or two behind the season. A leaf fell from the tree above Annabelle and she quickly brushed it off, in fear it might dirty her dress.

She caught herself. _Why do I care if my dress is dirty_? She asked herself. _It's _my_ dress, it shouldn't bother me_. She stood from the bench, walked farther under the tree till she reached the trunk, and sat on the ground in the grass. After taking a deep inhalation of the fresh air, she returned to reading the newspaper.

X

A half an hour later, Annabelle heard someone clear their throat. She lowered the newspaper that had been blocking her view, and smiled as Spot stood above her with empty hands.

"I know the park benches aint the most comfortable, but really? Sittin in the dirt?" Annabelle only smiled brighter. "You got guts kid, even I wouldn't sit in a puddle of mud." Annabelle blanched and jumped to her feet.

"Oh no, is the back of my dress muddy?" She tried looking over her shoulder to see and ended up turning in a full circle.

"Nah, looks good ta me," Spot said. Annabelle stopped turning in a circle and caught Spot starring at her backside.

"Spot!" she exclaimed and pushed his shoulder. He chuckled and held his hands up in defense.

"Hey, you're the one who asked me," he said matter-of-factly. Annabelle tried to argue, but couldn't think of a retort. She _had_ asked him. Spot's smile dropped from his face and he looked over Annabelle's shoulder. She turned and saw a group of four Newsies talking and pointing at them

"Do you know them?" Annabelle asked looking back at Spot. His face had grown very serious and his hand instinctively went to the gold tip of the cane sticking out of his belt loop.

"Ya, they's comin over, don't say nothin, ok?" Annabelle just nodded. As the four boys approached, Spot stood between the boys and Annabelle. Spot spit in his hand and shook the hand of the tallest boy who had also spit in his hand. Annabelle cringed slightly. "Heya Jacky'boy," Spot said, his voice had turned rigged and arrogant, event more so than usual.

"Heya Spot," the tallest boy asked. He wore a red bandana around his neck and Annabelle was almost sure she saw what appeared to be a cowboy hat on his head. The boy to his right was nearly as tall as 'Jack' but had dark curly brown hair and he had his hands on a much younger boy's shoulders. The boy to 'Jack's' left was the shortest of the elder boys and had a cigar sticking out of mouth and a Newsie cap on his head similar to the one the smallest boy had on. "Whatcha doin in Manhattan?"

"Visitin an old friend, what's it to yous?" Annabelle was slightly startled by the coldness in Spot's voice. Didn't all the Newsies get along?

"Well I's been hearin that you been sellin in the park these last few days. What, is business in Brooklyn that bad?" Spot chuckled.

"Nah, business is boomin, but like I said, I's been visitin and _old friend_. Ya got a problem with that?"

"No, aint got no problem," Jack said and looked over Spot's shoulder to Annabelle. She dropped her eyes to the ground feeling suddenly very small. "Who's that?" The eyes of the five boys turned to Annabelle.

"This here's Annabelle, she's with me," Spot placed his hand on her back and Annabelle felt more confident.

"Hello," she said kindly. The three of them who were wearing hats quickly removed them and they smiled at her.

"Annabelle, this is Jack Kelly, his _mouth_ David, Davie's younger brother Les, and this is Racetrack. They're Manhattan Newsies." Annabelle took turns shaking their hands, none of them spitting, much to Annabelle's relief.

"Well Spot, it's a good thing that ya's here, we was ganna head ovar ta Brooklyn today after we's done sellin. Medda wanted to invite all the boys back ta have another ralley in celebration of the one year anniversary."

"Oh ya? That sounds nice," Spot said. He still hadn't removed his hand from Annabelle's back and she was trying very hard not to squirm. "When is it?"

"This Friday. So what do ya say? Can we count on Brooklyn bein there?" Jack asked. Spot spit in his hand again and shook Jack's hand.

"Yous know yous can always count on Brooklyn. I'll let me boys know tonight. But uh, why don't you an me go over some of the particulars, Annabelle you ok here?"

"Sure Spot," she said and watched as he and Jack took several paces away from them. Annabelle looked down as she felt a tug on the skirt of her dress. It was the smaller boy, Les. He coughed into his hand and looked up at her with watery eyes.

"But me last pape miss?" Apparently the two older boys thought it funny because they started laughing. Annabelle thought it was heart breaking and she made to grab her coin purse. The curly haired boy, David, smacked Les on the back of the head.

"Hey Les, cut it out. You'll sell your papes later." Les looked up at David with a frown and the other boy, Racetrack, ruffled his hair.

"Ya, you should loin not ta mess with Spot's gal. You wanna be the reason 'hattan and Brooklyn start a war?" Race laughed and Les looked slightly embarrassed. _Spot's gal…_

"Oh, um I'm not…I mean he and I, he…we…I'm not his 'gal', Spot's I mean," Annabelle stuttered. The two older boys looked at one another and they both smiled.

"Sure, sure, my mistake," Racetrack said quickly. "So what's a dame, er, lady like yaself doin with the likes of Conlon?"

"We're friends," Annabelle said quickly. "We met a few days ago and…well we're friends, uh Mr. Racetrack." Racetrack laughed again.

"Just call me Race," he said winking at her. Annabelle smiled. The boys seemed nice. She wondered why Spot conversed with them so coldly.

"So are you ganna come to Medda's for the Newsie ralley?" David asked. Annabelle furrowed her brow in confusion. "Medda's?"

"I'm not familiar with that establishment. Is it in Manhattan?" David nodded and was about to speak, but Les, who Annabelle assumed was David's younger brother, spoke up.

"Ya, you should come! All the Newsies from all over New York are coming to celebrate the one year anniversary of the Newsie strike!" Les exclaimed. Annabelle smiled at his enthusiasm.

"Sounds very exciting Les," Annabelle said to the younger boy. "Are you referring to the Newsie strike against Mr. Pulitzer?" Annabelle inquired of the older boys.

"Yes ma'am," Race answered. "One year ago Friday ol' Jack and David marched into Pulitzer's office and demanded the rights of the Newsies."

"Hey!" Les shouted at Race. "I was there too! It was me, Jack, and David. Fighting against Pulitzer!" Les said to Annabelle.

"Sure, sure, Les was there too," Race corrected. "Anyway, that's why we's all ganna head to Medda's. She let us use her club last year for the Newsie rally. It didn't turn out so good last year though."

"What happened?" Annabelle asked. She was becoming increasingly interested in the story. She had, of course, heard of the famous strike, but only heard one side of it. The fact that the Newsies were so proud of the strike fascinated her. She began seeing the unity of the boys and their loyalty to the title 'Newsie'.

"The bulls showed up and started crackin skulls is what happened," Race answered. "It's a good thing Brooklyn was there. Harlem and Queens make for numbers, but Brooklyn's famous for their fightin. I spose that's why Conlon's talking to Cowboy, er, Jack. He don't want nothin like what happened last year ta happen. He's gatta look out for his boys." Annabelle looked over at Spot who seemed to be doing all the talking between him and Jack.

"I'm not sure I quite understand. What do you mean by '_he has to look out for his boys'_?" Annabelle asked. David and Race looked at her in surprise and confusion.

"Why don't ya know that Spot is the leader of the Brooklyn Newsies?" David asked. It was Annabelle's turn to be surprised. "Why, Spot Conlon is probably the most famous Newsie in all of New York, the toughest of the tough. He and Jack, anyway," David continued.

"Oh, I see." Annabelle looked back at Spot and for some reason he looked different to her. She had figured Jack was in a position where he was highly regarded just by the way the other boys treated him, but Spot? How had she not seen it before? It all made sense to her now. The reason Spot's posture, demeanor, and tone had changed when the others approached. He demanded respect, and the others gave it willingly. Even Jack looked like he could be humbled if Spot were to cross him. She was impressed.

"So are you going to come?" Les pulled her from her thoughts, literally, as he tugged on the skirt of her dress again. Annabelle smiled down at him and smoothed his ruffled hair.

"I don't know. I'm not sure I would be welcome. You all have a reason to celebrate, but I'm not a Newsie." Annabelle answered.

"Sure you are welcome, Sara is coming and she isn't a Newsie. Sara's my sister and Cowboy's girlfriend," Les elaborated. Annabelle smiled to him again.

"We'll see," she said vaguely. Les looked satisfied however and dropped the subject. Spot and Jack came back over and Annabelle smiled at Spot, but he only nodded his head to her.

"So you two wanna catch some lunch with us? We's ganna head over to the diner," Jack asked. Annabelle like the idea and was about to agree, but Spot cut her off.

"We made other plans," he said shortly. Annabelle was about to ask 'what other plans' but Spot gave her a look that silenced her.

"Ya ok, see yous around then Spot, nice ta meet ya Annabelle," Jack said. She smiled and waved to the four boys as they made there way back to the busy streets of Manhattan.

"Why didn't you want to eat lunch with them?" Annabelle asked. "They seemed quite nice." Spot ran a hand through his hair and shrugged.

"Just didn't feel like it," he answered. Annabelle could tell he was keeping something from her. She crossed her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows. "Hey, no need ta look sour. I just didn't want ya hangin around them. Newsies don't make the best company."

"If they're anything like you, Spot, I don't see the problem." Spot felt his heart swell at her words, but he hid it behind an eye roll. "Anyway, they invited me to Medda's for the rally. I just may take them up on the offer."

"No!" Spot said quickly. "I mean, ya wouldn't like it. Just a bunch a guys getting rowdy and drinkin and stuff. It's not the kinda company ya used ta."

"It's my decision, Spot," Annabelle responded. "Aren't you the one who's been encouraging me to make my own choices? I'm going unless you give me a valid reason not to." Spot starred at her. He wasn't used to people speaking to him with such open defiance. He hated it and loved it at the same time. For now, he hated it more.

"Well…I aint ganna take ya! Ya ganna have ta go there all by yaself and no one'll be lookin out for ya." Spot grinned. He had her there. Annabelle thought about it for a moment.

"I'll just have to go with Racetrack and David then. They seemed quite gentlemanly. Perhaps they'll even ask me to dance. Hmm….I'd better go and ask them to escort me." Annabelle turned and began walking in the direction the four boys had left. She gasped however when Spot grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him. She accidentally slammed into his chest and he grabbed her upper arms to steady her

"Don't!" he said sharply. Annabelle furrowed her brow as she looked into his eyes. They'd grown darker and colder, she was slightly afraid of him in that moment. "Don't," he said in a more gentle tone, his hard gaze softening. "I'll take ya if ya really wanna go." He dropped his hand from her arm, but didn't step back.

"Thank you Spot, I would love to go." He grinned as he noticed the flush on her cheeks as she stepped away from him. Spot stepped closer to her again and Annabelle backed into the tree she hadn't realized she was so close to. "Spot?" she asked her voice coming out in a breath.

"But yous gatta stay by my side the whole night, understand?" Annabelle could feel is hot breath on her face as she starred up into his eyes. She could only nod as a response. He grinned and stepped back. Her weight shifted forward and she almost lost her balance. "Good," he said smiling.

"Miss Danvers?" Annabelle looked to her right and saw Mr. Long standing there with his hands behind his back. "Its time we returned to the house. Supper will be soon." Annabelle hadn't realized it was so late.

"Oh, yes. Thank you Mr. Long," Annabelle said kindly. She turned back to Spot. "Would you like to join us for dinner? I'm sure cook has prepared something nice." Spot looked surprised, but his eyes shone with…well, Annabelle couldn't quite place it.

"Nah, I gatta get back ta Brooklyn. I's gatta check up on me boys." Annabelle looked saddened and something in Spot's stomach churned. "But uh, maybe tomorrow we can have lunch or somthin with the boys. I mean…ya comin back tomorrow aint ya?" Annabelle smiled.

"I'm sure I could find a reason to visit the park tomorrow," she teased. Spot grinned. He sure was making an impression on her. He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it.

"Till tomorrow." The smile on Annabelle's face slowly turned into a look of adoration, her grey eyes sparkling. They stood there starring at one another until Mr. Long cleared his throat.

"Till tomorrow, then," Annabelle agreed. She joined Mr. Long's side, but she looked over her shoulder at Spot and smiled one last time.

Neither of them saw the man with a top hat and a surely gaze watch while tapping his cane on the ground impatiently.

**A/N 'Going Down in Flames' by 3 Doors Down. Send me love :)**


	5. A Different World

Annabelle was slipping a pink jeweled comb into her hair when Mrs

Annabelle was slipping a pink jeweled comb into her hair when Mrs. Long came in the next morning. The woman looked colder than usual and part of Annabelle felt guilty for yelling at her the day before.

"I'll be going to Central Park again today," she said without hesitation. Mrs. Long nodded before reading the rest of the schedule.

"Mr. Archibald will be bringing over his math books today, then for lunch we'll be having a chef's salad and… then to Central Park. Dinner will be at six and afterward you may... well I'm sure you can find something to do with your time." Annabelle could hear a small edge to the woman's voice. It was cold, but there was something under it.

"Mrs. Long," Annabelle said stopping the woman before she left the room. "What are you doing today?" Mrs. Long was surprised.

"Well, um... after breakfast the maids will need their assignments. I monitor their activities until lunch and then I go to town and make an order of produce for the household for next day. I see that Mr. Long takes his vitamins and that the stables are in good order before returning and monitoring the preparation of dinner."

"Hmm," Annabelle said standing and brushing the skirt of her pink dress. "That sounds like a full day. Do you ever take a break?" Mrs. Long could only shake her head. "Well then, I instruct that you take the afternoon off! You will give me the order that needs to be placed and _I_ will go into town with Mr. Long and see that it is taken care of. No arguments," Annabelle stated as Mrs. Long opened her mouth. "It is high time I learned how to run my own household. I'll be eighteen soon, you know. And please, join me for breakfast." Mrs. Long only bowed, but Annabelle was sure her eyes were sparkling.

Mr. Long and Annabelle pulled up to Central Park at two on the dot. Annabelle told Mr. Long to wait in the coach while she searched for Spot. She walked around for nearly ten minutes before she noticed him just entering. He lazily strolled along the path and Annabelle marched right up to him.

"You're late," was the first thing she said. Spot removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair, a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

"Nice ta see ya too Annabelle? How's me mornin? Oh it's goin swell. The long walk from Brooklyn? Oh it was nothin, just a hop skip and a jump over that big watery thing some people call a river. And how are you?" he asked sarcastically.

"Oh," Annabelle said covering her mouth. "I didn't mean to be rude; I'm just in a hurry. I told Mrs. Long I'd place the produce order in the market today and if its not ordered within a certain time frame, then it won't arrive on time and well, you can see our predicament."

"There's nothin worse than placin a late produce order. I mean, who knows what'd happen. The sky might fall! And Pulitzer might give money ta the poor." Annabelle frowned at his sarcasm and Spot chuckled. "What do you me _our predicament_? What's this gatta do with me?"

"Well," Annabelle began. "I thought you might want to come with." She looked at him hopefully and Spot folded his arms across his chest and raised both eyebrows.

"So's what ya really sayin is…ya need my help," Spot corrected. Annabelle bit her bottom lip and looked back up at him with pleading eyes. "No, Annabelle." Spot said slightly exasperated. "Goin ta Market is women's doin. I got my rep to protect."

"Oh, but please Spot! I've never done it before and I might do it wrong and then everything will go just horridly!" She begged.

"No, I aint a grocery boy." Spot said and walked past her. "Trolley car rolls off the tracks after stray mutt attacks cable's, who's responsible? The driver or the dog!" Spot called loudly.

"Spot, Spot!" Annabelle called and ran after him. She stood in front of him and held her hands up. "If you came with me no one would suspect that _you_ were placing an order. I mean, _I'm_ a woman."

"Really? I missed that."

"I mean, it would just look as though you were _escorting_ me, which you are." Spot wasn't looking convinced. "And…and…and your reputation would only become better. Think of it, _Spot Conlon, the chivalrous_…._Spot Conlon, the gallant _…._Spot Conlon the most gentlemanly Newsie to _ever_ live_." Spot stroked his chin as though he were thinking about it.

"Hmm, I don't know Annabelle…I still got all my papes ta sell," Spot said and folded his arms again. Annabelle ran to him and placed both hands on his forearms.

"I'll have Mr. Long buy all your papers and give them to the men at the stable!" Spot still didn't look convinced. "Please!" she begged and her bottom lip protruded in a slight pout. Spot grinned.

"You owe me," he said pointing a finger at her. Annabelle cried in cheer and threw her arms around him.

"Oh thank you thank you thank!" she said, her smile stretching from ear to ear. "We'll have so much fun. I've never been to market before! We'll have to stop and look in all the stores!"

"Ya goin too far, Annabelle," Spot scolded. She only smiled brighter, grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the coach. Mr. Long tipped his hat to Annabelle and smiled to Spot.

"I see you've made a new friend Miss Danvers," he said kindly. Spot wiped his hand on his pants before shaking Mr. Long's hand. "Nice to meet you young fellow."

"Spot this is dear Mr. Long, the kindest man you'll ever meet. And Mr. Long, this is Spot Conlon."

"Nice ta meet ya too," he said in return. Mr. Long bowed his head before taking his place in the driver's seat. "I thought I was the nicest man ya'd ever met," Spot said as he helped Annabelle in.

"Well," she said as he sat next to her. "You're a close second." Spot rolled his eyes but couldn't help laughing as he saw the playful smile on Annabelle's face.

"Oh look at that, Spot, they're selling shoes on the street corner! Isn't that remarkable?" Spot couldn't help the small smile on his face as he watched Annabelle come to life. They drove with the top down on the coach and it seemed every two seconds she was pointing and remarking on something else. Sure, he loved New York, but he found a new appreciation for it as he saw it through Annabelle's eyes.

He was amazed at how she had changed in the last few days. Her eyes sparkled with life. They were nothing compared to the dull, hopeless eyes he'd seen on the bridge that night. She was a different woman now. She was finding reasons to be excited to live, and he felt a small sense of accomplishment, and perhaps…something more.

"Oh my, that is a rather ridiculous idea." Annabelle said pointing to a man trying to sell bracelets out of the interior of his coat. "Is the city always this beautiful?" Annabelle asked turning around to look at Spot.

"This is nothin, you should see it at night. It'll take your breath away," he whispered as he leaned closer to her. Annabelle bit her lip again to try and hide her smile.

"Really? I can't wait till Medda's party then. I should like to see it at night. I bet it's simply magical." Annabelle closed her eyes and tried to envision what it would look like. Spot took the opportunity to stare at her. The wind blowing her hair across her face, her soft pink lips slightly parted. His index finger grazed her cheek as he moved the hair that blocked her eyes which she flickered open. Spot grinned and Annabelle only smiled.

"The city can be a pretty dangerous place at night especially, ya shouldn't go wanderin around, no matter how _magical_ it may seem," Spot informed her.

"But I'll have you, won't I?" she asked and linked her arm with his. "No one would dare mess with the king of Brooklyn." There was a slight teasing to her voice, even though she knew she was speaking truth.

"Not just Brooklyn, Doll, all a New York and don't ya forget it," Spot said and his eyebrow quirked. Annabelle smiled and leaned against his arm as Mr. Long continued to usher to coach onward. Spot looked down at Annabelle. He wasn't used to someone trusting him so openly, so completely. He wondered how she would take it when he was no longer around. When he went back to Brooklyn and stayed there.

Mr. Long pulled the coach over near a produce stand and Spot jumped out to help Annabelle down. Annabelle frowned as she saw Mr. Long leaning against the side of the coach and breathing heavily.

"Are you alright, Mr. Long?" Annabelle asked, her grey eyes turning slightly watery with concern. The man straightened and smiled.

"Yes Miss Danvers, I am quite alright. I suppose I'm just tired from the day's excitement. Worry not," he said tapping her nose.

"Why don't you wait here with the coach, I'm sure Spot and I can handle the produce order." Mr. Long nodded and moved toward the palomino horse to pat its neck.

"Ready?" Spot asked as he extended his arm. Annabelle nodded and took it, her eyes glancing over the list in her hand. "What's first?" he asked as they stepped onto the sidewalk that was full of people.

"Cabbage, we need six heads," she informed him. Spot lead the way keeping his arm firmly around Annabelle as her wandering eyes caused her to run into nearly everything and everyone.

They reached a small produce stand that was selling cabbage and turnips by the bushel and Annabelle ordered the appropriate amount. She paid the man and took the basket in her arms.

After gathering six heads of cabbage, ten turnips, five cauliflowers and broccoli crown, a bushel of apples and a sack of potatoes, the two baskets were quite full.

"Jeeze, how much you eat at that house a yours?" Spot asked and Annabelle only shrugged. "What's left?"

"Just two heads of lettuce and a pound of blackberries," she said as she struggled to read the list and carry the basket of apples at the same time. "Here are blackberries," Annabelle said stopping in front of a cart and setting the basket down. "Will you go get the lettuce; I think my arms are going to fall off." Spot chuckled but agreed.

"I'll meet ya back here in a minute," he said before walking off, a basket under one arm and the sack of potatoes slung over his shoulder.

"One pound please," Annabelle send to the kind looking woman behind the cart. The woman smiled and handed her a small bag filled with the ripe berries.

"You don't look like you shop here often," the woman said as she looked Annabelle up and down. "You new to the city?"

"Hmm, I suppose I am. It's quite lovely," Annabelle said fondly. The woman's smile faded as she looked to her right. Annabelle followed her eyes to the adjoining alley.

"Not all parts," the vendor woman said. Annabelle saw two tall, older boys picking on a smaller Newsie boy. Annabelle looked around, but didn't see Spot.

"Thank you for the berries," Annabelle said and picked up her basket and marched down the alley. The two older boys were tossing the small Newsie's hat between one another and the little boy, around the age of seven, looked to be near tears.

"Ha, look at him crying like a little baby!" One of the boys wearing a bowler cap said as he tossed the hat to the other boy who was slightly shorter that the other. The taller of the boys then pushed the small Newsie boy down on the ground and kicked dirt on him.

"Leave him alone!" Annabelle yelled. All three boys looked at her and Annabelle faltered. She quickly masked her fear with a scowl and marched over to the small boy and helped him up. "Are you alright?" the small boy nodded. Annabelle held her hand out to the shorter of the boys expectantly. After receiving a nod from the taller boy he handed her the hat. "Here you are," Annabelle said kindly as she handed it to the small boy.

"Well, well, well," the taller boy said and pushed the small boy out of the way. "It would seem we have a little song bird chirpin away at us." Annabelle's confidence was squelched by the look on the face of the taller boy. She back away but ran into the shorter of the boys who had snuck up behind her. He grabbed her arms and leaned around.

"What's the matta song bird, don't ya wanna play?" The small boy Annabelle had helped ran down the other end of the alley and out of sight leaving Annabelle alone in the alley with the two elder boys. Annabelle struggled in the tight grip on her arms.

"Leave me alone," she snapped. The taller boy grabbed a piece of her hair and smelled it. Annabelle cringed and the boy behind her laughed.

"Come on song bird, how bout a kiss," the taller boy said and leaned toward her. Annabelle kicked him in the shin. He raised his hand to hit her and Annabelle cringed.

_James…_

"Hey!" the three turned their heads to the entrance to the alley and Annabelle sighed in relief as she saw Spot standing next to her abandon basket of Apples. He held one in his hand and was tossing it up and down.

"Get lost Conlon," the taller boy snapped. "This aint ya territory. Now why don't ya beat it. Can't ya see we's playin?"

"I don't think the lady wants ta play," Spot responded. "Me on the other hand, I got plenty a time ta play." In a swift motion he threw the apple the several feet between them with expert aim. It slammed into the taller boy's face right between his eyes. He fell backwards and hit his head on the ground. Annabelle stomped on the shorter boy's foot and elbowed him in the stomach. He coughed and threw her to the ground. Spot was ready as he sent his fist into the shorter boys jaw before grabbing him by the shoulders and kneeing him in the groin.

Spot ducked as the taller boy sent a fist flying over his head and thrust his shoulder into his ribcage, slamming him into the brick wall behind them. Spot pushed him to the ground next to the other fallen boy and they scurried to their feet.

"Let's get outta here," the shorter boy yelled and wiped blood from his mouth. The taller boy picked up his fallen hat and followed the other boy.

"We'll get ya for this Conlon!" he threatened before they were around the corner and out of sight. Spot rushed to Annabelle who was laying on the ground still.

"Annabelle, hey, you ok?" he asked as he turned her to face him. She had dirt smudged on her face and her hair was sticking to her wet cheeks as tears dripped from her puffy eyes. "Hey, it's ok, they're gone." He said and took her into his arms. Annabelle was shaking.

"I was so scared," she wept and Spot rubbed her back. "They were…they were so violent and…and..." Spot held her at arms length and wiped the tears from under her eyes with his thumbs.

"Ya, well that's what ya get when ya go walkin in alleys alone. Didn't I tell ya the city was dangerous?" Annabelle nodded and Spot chuckled lightly. "Ya sure slugged that guy, did ya see him wimperin? Ya got a mean right hook, Doll." Annabelle laughed despite the situation and Spot helped her to her feet. "You sure yous ok?" Annabelle nodded and wiped her face with her sleeve.

"Spot?" Annabelle and Spot turned to the other end of the alley and saw Jack, David, Racetrack, Les, and two other boys standing at the end of the alley with the smaller boy that Annabelle had rescued. "I was wonderin who would a sent the Delancys runnin with their tails between their legs," Jack said with a laugh.

"Annabelle?" Racetrack asked. "Is that you?" Annabelle nodded and Spot kept his arms firmly wrapped around her. "Hey Snipeshooter, yous sayin it was Annabelle who saved ya?"

"That's her," the small boy said pointing to Annabelle. "I wasn't runnin 'cause I was scared, I went ta get help!" he explained to Annabelle.

"Ya mean you saw all this and ran the otha way?" Spot asked, his whole form going rigid. "Jack?" Spot's said through clenched teeth. Jack placed a hand on Snipeshooter's shoulder.

"He was only doin what I taught him. Ya got a problem ya take it up with me, Conlon," Jack said in defense of the smaller Newsie.

"Spot," Annabelle whispered. "It's alright, don't be angry with him. It was my fault I was reckless, can we just forget this happened."

"Let us deal with the Delancy Brothers," one of the other boys with an eye patch piped in. "They're Manhattan's problem."

"Ya, well ya problem just leaked inta Brooklyn, come on Annabelle we's getting outta here." Annabelle shook her head and didn't move. "Come on Annabelle!"

"No Spot, I'm not going to be the reason you're fighting with your friends. These _Delancy Brothers_ are an infestation. I won't allow you to walk away in some silly argument that will only grow worse over time. You came along and saved me, if you hadn't these Manhattan Newsies were on there way. I'm fine, and Snipe…er well, the boy is fine as well" Spot stepped closer to her and lowered his voice so the others wouldn't hear.

"Well what if I hadn't been here…the others could have gotten here too late…you coulda, I mean they coulda." Annabelle took Spot's hand in hers.

"But you _were_ here….you're _always_ there when I need you, Spot. It's sort of your new trademark," Annabelle said with a small smile. Spot chuckled and kissed the top of her head.

"Alright Jack-boy, I'll forgive ya…this once." Spot spit on his hand and stuck it out toward Jack who hesitated a moment before repeating the gesture.

"Ya, thata boy Spot, now I aint ganna let yous two pass up a lunch invitation twice," Race said wrapping his arm around Annabelle's shoulders. "We got the whole crew togetha at Tibby's." Annabelle looked to Spot who just shrugged.

"We have to drop the groceries off at my coach, but then we'd be glad to join you," Annabelle said cheerfully, her spirits instantly lifting.

"Hey boys, let's give em a hand!" Race said to the others. "Annabelle, this here's Mush and Kid-blink, two a me best mates," Race introduced the other two boys.

"Nice to meet you both," Annabelle said and they both shook her hand with grins on their faces. With eight pairs of hands eager to help, Annabelle only had to lead the way to the coach as the others carried the produce to the waiting coach. "We've returned Mr. Long," Annabelle said kindly to the elderly man who was reading the paper in the back of the coach.

"So I see, and with more friends, how delightful," Mr. Long said in a cheery voice. The boys loaded the coach with the three baskets and the two bags. "Are you not coming Miss?" Mr. Long inquired.

"No, Mr. Long, I've been invited to dine out for lunch. Will you let Mrs. Long know for me?"

"Certainly Miss. When and where would you like me to pick you up once you are finished dining?" Annabelle looked to Race to give him the address but before he could speak, Spot was talking.

"I'll be walkin her home when we're done," Spot said and Annabelle looked at him in surprise. His eyes were locked with Mr. Long's, however, and he wouldn't look at her.

"Alright then," Mr. Long said. He returned Spot's stare with one of his own. "You'd best be careful, wouldn't want anything to happen to you Miss."

"She'll be taken care of," Spot assured him. Mr. Long gave him a stern look and a nod before flicking the reins and starting down the street.

"What was that all about?" Annabelle asked as they began walking down the street. Spot shrugged it off and placed his hand on her back as her led her toward the diner.

Tibby's was crowded with Manhattan Newsies. They all chorused their greetings to the new arrivals and Annabelle received more than one curious stare. Jack was immediately greeted by a girl around Annabelle's age with soft brown hair and glittering eyes. He gave her a hug and David kissed her on the cheek.

"Hey, Sarah, this is Annabelle, Conlon's new gal," Jack said and before Annabelle could argue Jack's mistake, Sarah was greeting her.

"It's nice to meet you, Annabelle, you can sit next to me," she said in a happy tone. Annabelle smiled gratefully at her.

"Could you show me where I can wash up?" Annabelle inquired quietly. Sarah nodded and took her hand as she led her through the crowd. Annabelle stopped however when she felt a tug on her other hand.

"Where ya goin?" Spot asked with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw. Annabelle motioned for Sarah to wait a moment.

"Just going to wash up, Spot. Why do you think the Delancy Brothers are in the bathroom?" Spot's eyes widened. "I was joking Spot, relax, I'm fine." He narrowed his eyes but released her hand.

Sarah led her into a small bathroom and she starred at herself in the mirror. Her face wasn't terribly dirty but her hands were so she quickly washed them and tried to smooth her hair.

"Here," Sarah said handing her a comb. "I always keep a spare on me," she said with a smile. "What happened, may I ask. Snipeshooter came in here all flustered and then the boys took off so fast I didn't have a chance to hear what was happening."

"Oh," Annabelle said turning to her. "I _met_ the Delancy Brothers." Sarah nodded in understanding. "I hear they're notorious."

"They're just thugs. They find joy in tormenting those who can't defend themselves." Annabelle nodded as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress and refastened the pink jeweled comb in her hair again. "So you're Spot's girl?" Sarah asked suddenly.

"Oh, no I'm not. We're just friends," Annabelle corrected. Sarah gave her a short nod a bright smile on her face. "What is that look for?"

"Oh, nothing, I've just never seen _Spot_ so protective of anyone, let alone a _friend_ who's a girl," Sarah replied

"Well, he and I have a…special sort of relationship I suppose, but we're nothing more than friends."

"Whatever you say, but as far as I know, Spot Conlon is never 'just friends' with any girl. You'd better be careful if you want to stay his _friend_." Annabelle was going to ask what she meant, but there was a loud rapping on the door and as Sarah opened it, Spot was on the other side.

"What's takin so long, everyone's orderin?" he asked and both Sarah and Annabelle laughed as they walked past him. "What?" he asked as he followed them back to the dining room.

"Hey, Annabelle, sit next ta me!" Race called over the crowd. Annabelle made her way over to Race and the open seat to his left. Sarah ended up sitting across from her and as Mush was going to sit to her right, Spot pushed him out of the way and took the seat himself. "Whatcha getting?" Race asked.

"What's good?" Annabelle inquired and everyone laughed as though she had told some funny joke. "The food is edible right?" she asked with a laugh.

"Ya, real five star dinin, just get what I'm gettin. Turkey on rye, the best sandwich in all a New York," he said with a smile. Annabelle shrugged and handed her menu to Spot who passed it across the table to Jack.

"Anythin's betta than the Refuge dinin," Jack said as he ordered. Annabelle looked at him in shock. "What? I got somthin on my face?"

"Besides a lot of ugly?" Race responded. The table laughed and Annabelle tried to hide a snicker behind her hand.

"Forgive me for staring, but did you say the Refuge? As in prison?" Annabelle inquired after a lull had past in their laughter.

"Ya," Jack said leaning back in his chair. "I did some time in the Refuge couple years ago, no biggy." Jack tried to play it off, but the surrounding Newsies all cheered and patted him on the back as though it were an accomplishment.

"Hey, don't forget I spent some time in there, too, Jack," the Newsie called Crutchy added and he too was treated like a hero.

"Ya see, back when the Newsie's was strikin' against Pulitzer, we all sorta had a run in with the bulls after the first Newsie rally," Race explained. "Ol Jack had been in an out a the Refuge a couple times, but if it hadn't been for Denton, we all woulda been in there for a long time."

"Who's Denton?" Annabelle asked Race. Her interest was spiking. She wanted to know why they seemed so proud of the fact that they had all been arrested.

"He used ta work for one a The Sun. He became a friend a the Newsies when he agreed to cover the story from our side," Race answered.

"Ya if Denton hadn't posted our bail, we's all would probably still be sittin in the Refuge coutin cracks in the floor," Spot added. Annabelle raised her eyebrows in surprise and Spot just shrugged. He waited for Annabelle to be distracted by the story before slipping outside into the alley next to the diner and lighting a cigarette.

"Hey," Jack said as he joined Spot. Spot offered Jack a cigarette which he took. Jack leaned against the wall across from the alley from Spot. "So what's really goin on with you an Annabelle?" Jack inquired.

"Nothin," Spot lied. He took another draw from the cigarette, an image of Annabelle flashing across his mind.

"Come on Spot, we may not a been the closest a friends, but we've always been chums. I see what's goin on here, and I think ya need to start thinkin with ya brain."

"What's that suppose ta mean Jack? Ya think I just wanna sleep with her and then drop her? 'Cause if that's what ya sayin ya should shut up right now 'cause it aint true. It's not like that…she's not like that."

"That's what I'm talkin about, Spot. _Annabelle_ aint like that, but you are. Everybody knows ya just a skirt chaser in the end. Sure ya's been with gals before, but ya love 'em and leave 'em. It's the way ya's always been."

"Ya, well so's was you Jack," Spot said defensively. "I aint the only Newsie with a rep in this alley. You was a bonafide skirt chaser once too."

"Ya, but then I met Sarah and that all changed. I knew that if I was ganna deserve her then I was ganna have ta change some things."

"And you sayin it aint like that with me and Annabelle? Ya think I can't change? Ya think ya better than me?" Spot challenged. Jack shook his head.

"No Spot, I aint sayin ya can't change, but I'm thinkin that ya wont. This thing with Annabelle…it aint ganna last, she comes from a different kind a world than we do. Don't think that engagement ring on her finger went unnoticed. Ya think she's ganna leave her richie fiancé for a street rat? Come on Spot, think with ya brain." Spot was silent for a long time. Jack pushed himself off the wall and placed a hand on Spot's shoulder. "I'm just tryin ta look out for ya Spot. My advice, break it off before ya both get hurt." Spot nodded and Jack left the alley to let Spot think by himself.

"_In the brightest hour of my darkest day I realized what is wrong with me, can't get over her can't get through to her its been a helter-skelter romance from the start take these memories that are haunting me of a paper man cut in shreds by his own pair of scissors I'll never forget her I'll never forget her_.

"_Because days come and go, but my feelings for her could be forever. Because days come and go, but my feelings for her could be forever." _Spot dropped his cigarette and stomped on it before leaning against the wall of the alley. _"I was walkin home on a lonely night hanging over from another long night in another world, when I found that girl, you should listen to this story of her life. She's my heroin in this moment. I'm lonely fulfillin my darkest dreams. All these thugs all these women I'm never forgiven this broken heart of mine._

"_Because days come and go, but my feelings for her could be forever. Because days come and go, but my feelings for her could be forever._

"_One last kiss before I go. Dry your tears. It is time to let you go. One last kiss before I go. Dry your tears. It is time to let you go."_

**A/N Forever by Papa Roach. Lyrics have been altered.**


	6. Without You

A/N Annabelle's singing part will be in italics

**A/N **Annabelle's singing part will be in_italics._ Spot's singing part will be in **bold**. And when they sing together it will be in _**bold italics**_**. **If anyone knows if you can put colored text on here, please let me know, it will save the confusion.

The sun was already beginning to set as the Newsies dispersed from the diner. Spot had rejoined them after some time in the alley and Annabelle hadn't even noticed. She was too busy listening to the colorful story Racetrack and the others were telling her.

"Hey, so's we're ganna see ya tomorrow at Medda's right?" Racetrack asked as they stood outside the diner.

"Most definitely," Annabelle answered with a smile. His face lit up and he and the other Newsies waved goodbye. Annabelle and Sara hugged as they separated. "It was lovely to meet you Sara, you're going to have to come to dinner sometime," Annabelle said smiling brightly.

"Yes, same to you Annabelle. I know my family would love to have you over sometime. I can't tell you how nice it is to have another female around." Sara said with an equally bright smile.

"That's sweet of you to say. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?" Sara nodded and Jack, David, and Les began walking in another direction.

"Ready?" Spot asked as he placed a hand on her back. Annabelle nodded and allowed Spot to lead her down the street.

"It was lovely to meet your friends, Spot. They were all so nice. I can't wait for tomorrow night." Spot didn't say anything, but instead continued to lead her along the street that still had some lingering people about. "You've been quiet this evening, is everything alright?"

"Ya, fine, fine," Spot said quickly. Too quickly. Annabelle had the feeling he was upset about something. His shoulders were rigid and he kept his eyes focused on the road straight in front of them. He wouldn't look at her.

They walked in silence for a long time. They made a few turns every so often and the busy market streets began to fall behind as nicer housing surrounded them. Annabelle began to recognize the different buildings and assumed they were getting close to her house.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Annabelle asked suddenly. She looked up at Spot expectantly, but he didn't return the gaze.

"No thanks, I gatta get back ta Brooklyn as soon as I can," he said in a monotone voice. Annabelle sighed and dropped her eyes to the ground.

"Are you angry with me Spot?" she asked in a small voice. Spot finally looked down at her and saw her shoulders slump. "You haven't spoken to me in hours. Did I do something wrong?" Spot stopped and ran a hand through his hair.

"Look, Annabelle we gatta talk." She looked up at him, her eyes were slightly watery and his heart sank. "This whole you and me thing," he said gesturing between the two of them, "it's just…it's…I mean you and I, we're different people. I don't want ya ta think ya aint special to me, 'cause ya are…"

"You're special to me too, Spot," Annabelle said, her face beginning to light up and a small blush on her cheeks.

"No, no, that's not what I meant," he said placing his hands on her shoulders. Her face turned to confusion. "I mean, I do mean that, but I'm not sayin what ya think I'm sayin."

"What are you saying then, Spot?" Annabelle inquired. The words were on the tip of his tongue. _I care about you Annabelle, but we can't see each other anymore. I'm no good for you. You deserve someone better._

"I'm sayin that…I'm sayin…"_ I can't see you anymore_. "I think that tomorrow night is ganna be a lot a fun." Annabelle smiled. "And if ya want, I'll even dance with ya."

"I would like that very much," Annabelle said and Spot grinned at her. _Coward_. He thought to himself. Annabelle took his arm as he continued to lead her toward her house.

As they rounded the corner, her house in plane sight, Annabelle gasped and pulled Spot into the alley to their right. She pushed him up against the wall and peered around the corner of the building before ducking back in.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no," Annabelle said with a quavering voice. Spot was surprised. Of the two of them, he was sure _Annabelle_ wouldn't be the one pulling the other into an alley and pressing them up against a wall. The look of distress on her face snapped him back to reality.

"What is it?" he asked. Annabelle signaled for him to be quiet and they peered around a corner. She pointed to a tall, lanky man wearing a top hat and holding a cane standing in front of her house as if waiting for someone. His facial features were difficult to discern as the sun was nearly completely set now and several stars were out, but Annabelle would recognize the daunting silhouette anywhere. "Who's that?"

"It's Mr. Doyle, James' right hand man. James must have ordered him to watch me while he was out of town. Now James will know I haven't been going to piano lessons. What if Mr. Doyle knows that I've been seeing you? No, oh no, this can't be happening?" Annabelle buried her face in her hands and Spot wrapped his arms around her. She was trembling.

"What's this guy done to get you so scared, Annabelle?" Spot asked and made her look at him. Annabelle adverted her eyes.

"Nothing…I just don't want him to be angry is all," she lied. Spot didn't believe her, but he took her hand and led her down the other end of the alley away from her house. Once on the other end they ran around the back of the house next to Annabelle's and down the alley to the fire escape that went up to Annabelle's room.

"Come on, we'll sneak in the back," he said in a whisper. Spot pulled the ladder down, but as Annabelle started to climb up, Mr. Doyle walked in front of the alley. Spot grabbed her by the waist, pulled her down and pressed her up against the wall, shielding her from sight with his body. Mr. Doyle stopped in front of the alley and looked down it. Spot placed a hand over Annabelle's mouth and prayed they couldn't be seen in the shadows. After what seemed an eternity, Mr. Doyle continued to walk. Spot waited till they couldn't hear footsteps before removing his hand from her mouth. "You ok?" he asked looking down at her. She nodded and took in a sharp breath as she looked up into his eyes. Their faces were so close. Annabelle could see every silver fleck in his eyes. He smelled like ink, paper, and the earth just after it rained. His eyes were focused on her lips and Annabelle could feel the heat from his body.

"Spot?" she asked in quiet voice just as he was leaning in to capture her lips. He stopped and stepped away from her. He cleared his throat and shook his head.

"Come on, he might come back," he said and helped her up the ladder. He followed her closely until they reached her window. He pried it open and jumped inside before helping her down. "You ganna be ok?" he asked and Annabelle nodded.

"Thank you," she said and stood there awkwardly. Spot looked around her room before his eyes came to rest on hers. He smiled and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"So, um, I'll see ya tomorrow then. Maybe we can go see the other side of the park," he suggested. Annabelle was about to agree, but her face fell.

"No, I can't. What if Mr. Doyle follows me? I don't want him to know that we're meeting. It would cause a lot of problems." Spot nodded in understanding. "Oh dear," Annabelle said suddenly. "Now I won't be able to go to Medda's party."

"Don't you worry, I'll find a way ta get ya to the party. You just be ready by eight o'clock." Annabelle smiled brightly and followed Spot to the window.

"Are you going to be alright walking back to Brooklyn? I don't want Mr. Doyle to recognize you…I don't want you to get hurt." Spot grinned and placed his hand on her cheek.

"Don't you worry 'bout me, I know this city like I built it myself. I'll see ya tomorrow night at eight." Annabelle smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, to both of their surprise, before saying goodnight. "Goodnight to you too, Annabelle." He slowly made his way out the window down the fire escape out of sight.

X

Spot took the back alley so as not to run into Mr. Doyle. His mind raced as his feet pounded against the pavement. He should have broken it off. He should have told her how he wasn't good for her, but the thought of never seeing her again made his heart ache like it had only ached once before… a long time ago.

What was this power she seemed to have over him? The King of Brooklyn felt his world begin to slip from his control. His life now rested on the brink, if it tipped in any direction it could all come crashing down around him. He hated the feeling that began to fill the recesses of his heart. He was falling. Fast. Hard.

He saw Annabelle's grey eyes in his mind. He could smell her lilac scented hair and he felt the way it tickled his face when he held her and the softness of her skin. He missed her already.

X

Annabelle sat at her vanity mirror and ran a brush through her hair. Her mind raced. She closed her eyes and could feel Spot's arms wrapped around her. She could smell the ink on his hands and she could hear his arrogant laugh. Her heart fluttered as she remembered the way his eyes looked up close. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered the feel of his cheek against her lips. She missed him already.

"_Return to you. Return to your life. Come back to your past come back to the time that went so fast. The moon is quick, and chases us through the trees. Think it knows you're here? I know it's glad you're here. I searched the sky, the stars could hold the answers but the sky may cry and drench me with all the answers. I think I'm losing myself but I'll wait till I find myself. I'm not going anywhere without you. I won't let you fall away there's too much to throw away. I don't know what I'd do without you…_" Annabelle leaned against the windowsill, the warm night breeze blew across her face and she smiled as she pictured Spot in her mind.

"**I see your smile, haven't seen it in awhile. I hear your voice inside my head. I think of all the things that you've said. The sun is bright. Blinds us from the truth of night. I know you're here. I hope that you know I'm still here. I searched the sky, the stars could hold the answers, but the sky may cry and drench me with all the answers. I think I'm losing myself, but I'll wait till I find myself. I'm not going anywhere without you. I won't let you fall away there's too much to throw away. I don't know what I'd do without you.**" Spot stopped as he reached the beginning of the Brooklyn Bridge. He turned around and looked in the direction of Annabelle's house. The warm night breeze blew across his face and he smiled as he pictured Annabelle in his mind.

"_**Sifting through the fog, I see the road clear up ahead. And love is all around me. I know you; you might take that road instead. I know you and you, you, you might take that road instead. I think I'm losing myself, but I'll wait till I find myself. I'm not going anywhere without you. I won't let you fall away there's too much to throw away.**_"

"_I don't know what I'd do_."

"**I don't know what I'd do**."

"_I don't know what I'd do_…"

"_**Without you…**_"

X

As Annabelle sat eating her lunch and reading a book, Mrs. Long bustled in with a small frown on her face.

"Mr. Doyle is here to see you," she said and Annabelle felt the color drain from her face. She closed her book and stood. A moment later, the surely man entered the room and removed his hat revealing a bald head and a small scar across his forehead.

"Miss Danvers," he said and a heavy voice. Annabelle curtsied and Mr. Doyle bowed his head.

"Mr. Doyle, this is unexpected. I thought you to be in Chicago with James." Mr. Doyle didn't reply at first. He walked to the table and plucked a grape from the fruit tier.

"No, Miss. I am under strict orders by my master, Mr. Winchester, to see that you are _cared_ for while he is away. It would be a shame if some form of _harm_ came to you in Mr. Winchester's absence. Annabelle felt her heart racing.

"I assure you I am in the best of health, Mr. Doyle." He voice was shaking. They both noticed. Mr. Doyle placed his hat on the edge of the table and starred straight into Annabelle's eyes.

"Then tell me Miss Danvers, if you are in such good health, why have you not been to piano lessons in the last two days? Mr. Winchester would be greatly troubled to hear such a thing." Annabelle opened her mouth to retort and Mr. Doyle stood to his full height. "Choose your words carefully, Miss Danvers. I am instructed to report back to Mr. Winchester on the condition of his fiancé. I would hate to give a negative report."

"I was simply taking a few days off to focus more on my studies, but I assure you I have every intention of returning to my lessons tomorrow." Annabelle was hoping she had become a better liar over the last few days. Mr. Doyle was impossible to read. He walked around the table and grinned, however it looked more like a snarl.

"I shall inform my master." He took Annabelle's hand and pressed his icy lips to her knuckles. He turned to leave and as he picked up his hat, he glanced over his shoulder at her. "I happened to walk past the alley next to your house last evening. You may want to have someone investigate that fire escape. The ladder was pulled down. I'd hate for a burglar to get in." And with that, he left the room. Annabelle collapsed in her chair, a shuddering breath escaped her. Mrs. Long cam back in the room and her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at Annabelle.

"I'll be returning to my piano lessons tomorrow, Mrs. Long," she said in a small voice. Mrs. Long only nodded before leaving the room. Annabelle sighed. What was she going to tell Spot?

_Spot._

**A/N 'Without You' by Sara Gazarek**


	7. On a Night Like This

**A/N** The design for both of Annabelle's dresses comes from a 1906 fashion catalogue my mother has. I tried to scan it onto my computer but alas, technology is not my friend. I couldn't find any pictures on the internet that resembled the dresses closely enough. Sorry, all you brilliant amazing readers will be forced to use an extra amount of imagination. This chappy is extra long cuz I have so many frickin songs!! Geeze. I tried to think of a way to separate it into two chapters, but it was either one long one or two short ones.

**A/N2 **first song is in narration in _**bold italics**_. Second song is Medda and will be in **bold**. Third song is Annabelle and will be in just _italics_. Final song is narration again so it's in _**bold italics**_.

Annabelle looked at the clock hanging on the wall next to her wardrobe. It was already a quarter past eight. Annabelle paced in front of her bed nervously. _Where is he_? _Maybe he changed his mind…maybe he's not coming_.

She stopped in front of her vanity mirror and nervously brushed at her dress. The sapphire beading that lined the collar accented her defined collar bone and her long neck. The bodice fit her nicely, tight enough to accentuate her waist but loose enough to breathe in. The dress fell to her ankles and an extra amount of fabric created a small train starting at the small of her back and gracefully flowing to the ground. Her hair was pulled behind her head and fastened with a blue diamond comb and several strands of her dark, curly hair fell onto her shoulders.

"Ya aint thinkin of changin are ya? I don't think I'm patient enough ta wait outside." Annabelle spun around and saw Spot leaning inside the window. She placed a hand over her heart as it pounded against her chest. He jumped inside and Annabelle smiled. He was wearing a dark blue button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and black trousers with matching suspenders.

"You startled me," Annabelle said with a small laugh. "Don't you know to knock before entering a lady's room?" she teased.

"Well I woulda rung the bell, but wouldn't ya know it, they aint got door bells on windows," he said sarcastically as he stepped farther into her room. Annabelle blushed as Spot looked her up and down. "Sorry I'm late," he said shaking himself from his thoughts, "but that lanky guy from last night seems ta have taken up residence on ya stoop."

"Mr. Doyle is out there? Oh, I can't go, he'll follow us!" Annabelle said, her voice shaking. Spot furrowed his brow. "Mr. Doyle works for James; he's been following me since James has been out of town…he came by this afternoon and threatened to tell James that I've been missing piano lessons. I have to start going back…I don't want to make James angry." Spot scratched his chin as though he was thinking about something.

"Well, I can get ya past him tonight. We'll just sneak out the back." He moved over to her vanity mirror and began fingering the small trinkets on the desk. "Seems your fiancé is a tad over protective."

"James is a lot of things; eccentric is definitely one of them. He insists on having control of the situation, I suppose that is no exception when he isn't in town to do it himself," Annabelle responded.

"So…if this guy is such a prat, why are ya with him?" Annabelle didn't answer at first. Spot was looking at her from the mirror and saw her begin to wring her hands nervously. "It's just a question."

"I don't really want to talk about it. Can we forget about it for tonight and just enjoy the evening? I don't want to think about James right now."

"Alright then," Spot answered half heartedly. He wanted her to answer him, but she was still holding back. "So where do ya take ya piano lessons?"

"With Mrs. Douglas in her studio. It's on the corner of fifth and Marymoor." Annabelle said as though it was inconsequential, but Spot's grin grew into a smile.

"That's in Brooklyn," he said almost laughing. "That's perfect. You get ya driver ta take ya to ya lessons like everything is fine and dandy, then I'll be waitin for ya and I can finally show ya my turf."

"Spot you think of everything!" Annabelle said throwing her arms around him. "What would I do without you?" she asked as he hugged her back.

"Ah, ya'd probably be a more honest person, now come one. Let's get outta here. I'd hate for ya ta get all dressed up and have no wheres ta go." He ducked out the window onto the fire escape. Annabelle hesitated.

"Are you sure Mr. Doyle won't see us?" she asked. Spot held her eyes for a moment, a serious but not unkind look on his face.

"Trust me," he said and extended his hand to her. Annabelle fit her hand into his larger one and he helped her out the window. They stood on the balcony of the fire escape for a moment, their eyes locked onto one another's, Spot's hands on Annabelle's waist, and hers placed on his shoulders. "Do you trust me?" he asked and Annabelle nodded without hesitation.

"Yes, I trust you." He grinned and brushed his thumb across her cheek. Annabelle felt the butterflies dancing in her stomach and she couldn't help the smile on her face.

"Good," Spot said and took her hand as he helped her down the rest of the way to the ground.

They circled around the back of the house next to Annabelle's until the reached the street where Spot offered Annabelle his arm which she gladly took and they began to the walk deeper into Manhattan toward Medda's.

_**Come away with me in the night. Come away with me and I will write you a song.**__**Come away with me on a bus. Come away where they can't stand us with their lies and I want to walk with you on a cloudy day in fields where the yellow grass grows knee high. So won't you try to come?**__**Come away with me and we'll kiss on a mountain top come away with me and I'll never stop loving you.**_

The city was lit up with street lights and those from the windows of apartments and businesses. They walked in comfortable silence and Annabelle felt her heart flutter with every step she took.

_**I want to wake up with the rain fallin on a tin roof. While I'm safe their in your arms so all I ask so is for you to come away with me in the night. Come away with me.**_

X

Annabelle knew instantly which establishment was Medda's. There were several boys standing outside a theatre that had the double doors propped open. Music filled the air as well as the sound of laughter and shuffling fee.

"Remember what I said," Spot whispered as he ducked his mouth to her ear. "Stay close to me tonight. I don't wanna lose track a ya." Annabelle nodded and felt a comfort in Spot's protectiveness of her. It was nice to have someone care.

"Heya Spot!" One of the boys outside the front door called, and the two boys next to him waved as well. "We's was wonderin when yous was ganna show up!"

"Heya Switch," Spot said as the boy clapped him on the back. "Switch this is Annabelle, Annabelle this is one a me best mates, Switch." Spot said referring to the taller of the boys with black curly hair and blue eyes. "And this is Tick and Bug, a couple a my birdies." Annabelle curtsied and the boys chuckled.

"Nice ta meet ya finally," Switch said with a smile. Annabelle looked at him with confusion. "Well when Spot conveniently found a reason ta go sellin in Manhattan for a week, we's figured it was a girl that done it." Spot scowled at Switch and Annabelle blushed.

"Hey, come on you two, the party is just getting started." Tick said and Spot led Annabelle up the steps and inside where it was even more crowded that usual. Annabelle was immediately overcome by the festive spirit and a large smile plastered itself on her face.

She spotted Sarahh making her way toward her and she let go of Spot's arm. Sarah had to doge several boys before she reached her and when they met they both laughed.

"I'm so glad you could make it, you look stunning!" Sarah said taking a long look at her. "I saved you a seat if you'd like to sit with us."

"I'd be delighted, you look very pretty too." Annabelle said, and Sarah did look quite pretty. Her light brown hair was pulled into a stylish twist and her white dress was very flattering. Spot followed Annabelle and Sarah as they made there was across the large room. Annabelle's eyes roamed over the high ceilings and the large staircases. They made their was into the main room where several tables were set up and Newsies from all over New York were hanging about, some literally as they hung from the balcony.

"Here it is," Sarah said as they reached a table near the front of the stage. Jack, David, Les, Race, Kid Blink and several Newsies Annabelle didn't recognize were sitting around two tables that had been pushed together.

"There he is," Jack said standing and spit shaking with Spot. "It's about time ya got here, we's been waiting for ya."

"Ya well I'm here now so's you's can stop ya complainin," Spot said but he was smiling. Jack pulled Spot in close so he could talk to him quietly without being overheard.

"I thought you's was ganna drop Annabelle," Jack said and Spot looked away from him. "Come on Conlon, ya know I'm right. It aint ganna last."

"Well it's my choice, Jack, and even if it aint ganna last it's still _my_ choice so ya better start mindin ya own business." Jack shrugged but dropped the subject.

"Come on, me and the other leaders is ganna kick off the night," Jack said and Spot nodded he made his way over to where Annabelle was conversing with Sarah and he leaned over the back of her chair.

"You ganna be ok here for a minute?" he asked and she nodded. "Alright, I'll be back in a minute." Annabelle watched him as he joined Jack and three other boys stood next to them. Spot turned to look at Annabelle and they made eye contact. She smiled and he winked at her.

"That's nice," Sarah said drawing Annabelle's attention. "The way you two look at one another. It's sweet." Annabelle laughed.

"What do you mean? He and I don't look at one another in any special way." Sarah rolled her eyes and laughed.

"I'm not blind Annabelle," Sarah said still laughing. "I can clearly see there's something more between the two of you than just _friendship_. Spot has never looked at anyone like that. You two obviously have feelings for each other." Annabelle just blushed and shook it off with a laugh.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Jack called from the stage and everyone began to quiet down. Spot stood just to Jack's right and the three other boys stood behind the two of them.

"Who are all of those boys?" Annabelle asked as she leaned over to Sarah. Sarah in turn leaned over the side of her chair to Annabelle.

"The tall boy with the red hair and freckles is Decker, he's from Harlem. The boy to his right with the glasses is Slick from Queens and the shorter boy is Trickster from the Bronx. They're all the leaders of their Newsies; they all get together once a month to keep the peace, so to speak, between territories. Though Spot and Jack still get together once a week, at least. They're pretty good friends since the strike. Spot really bailed Jack out the last Newsie rally."

"What do you mean?" Annabelle asked. Jack was still talking to the gathering, something about earning respect from the 'richies' and standing up for the title 'Newsies'.

"Well you know how the police broke in and everything turned violent?" Annabelle nodded. "One of the officers from the refuge tried to shoot Jack and Spot tackled him. They were all eventually caught and subdued, but Jack could have died…" Sarah's eyes were watery. Clearly the memory of the last Newsie rally was a hard subject for her. "Ever since that night, Jack and Spot have had a sort of silent bond with one another. They may seem like they hate one another at times, but really, they're extremely close. Brooklyn and Manhattan used to be on shaky terms before that, but now they're like family."

"Spot has a tendency to save people's lives when they least expect it," Annabelle said with a small laugh. Her eyes were focused on Spot as he began addressing the group. He was talking, but it was like Annabelle couldn't hear anything. All she saw was Spot. Her breathing seemed difficult as her chest swelled. Sarah laughed and Annabelle snapped from her thoughts as she looked at her.

"Still going to pretend there's nothing between the two of you?" she asked and Annabelle discreetly shook her head. "I knew it. So what is going on between the two of you?" Sarah was almost giddy with excitement. Annabelle wasn't sure why, but she seemed perfectly at ease with Sarah. They were fast friends.

"This may seem strange, I know we just met, but…would you like to stay the evening at my house tomorrow? I'll explain everything then." Sarah smiled and nodded.

"I'd love to. If you come by my house after the rally I'll ask my parents." Their conversation was cut off as a loud chorus of cheering resounded from the numerous boys in the room. Annabelle and Sarah laughed.

"Without further ado," Jack said with a smile, "the lovely and talented, Medda!" Everyone cheered again as the curtain rose and a red headed woman wearing a frilly purple dress emerged waving and blowing kisses to everyone.

"Hello boys!" she greeted. "How about a round of 'Seize the Day' for old time sake?" Everyone cheered again and Medda began singing a song that everyone seemed to know except Annabelle.

"Would you come and get something to drink with me?" Sarah asked, or rather shouted over the loud singing. Annabelle nodded and the two girls joined hands as they struggled to make their way through the crowd. They eventually came to the bar on the opposite end of the room. "Two grape juices please," Sarah called to the bartender and he smiled to them as he handed them two glasses. As Sarah handed one to Annabelle, someone bumped her from behind and Annabelle spilled the grape juice on Sarah's dress.

"Oh, Sarah I am so sorry," Annabelle said quickly. Sarah looked down at her dress in shock.

"It…it's alright, it wasn't your fault. It was an accident," Sarah said but her eyes were brimming with tears. "I suppose I'll just go home and change…"

"No, come on." Annabelle grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the edge of the stage as the song had just ended. Medda was getting a drink of water and Annabelle waved her over. "Excuse me," Annabelle said and Medda came over. "There was a small accident at the bar; do you have somewhere she can change?"

"Oh my, that is an accident. Come on them you two." Medda signaled for them to walk up the small staircase on the side of the stage and she ushered them behind the curtain. "Just in there girls, no one will bother you." Medda said as she pointed to a door with her name written on it.

"Thank you so much," Annabelle said and she pulled Sarah into the room and closed the door. Inside, was a large room with a long vanity mirror and counter as well as several racks with dresses hanging from hangers. "Take that dress off," Annabelle instructed.

"Why?" Sarah asked but she was already undressing. Annabelle reached behind her back and began unzipping her own dress.

"You're going to wear my dress," Annabelle said and slipped the dress off leaving her in just her corset and petticoat.

"What?" Sarah asked and stopped undressing. Annabelle moved over to her and began to help her unlace the back. "I can't wear your dress, what will you wear?"

"I can wear your dress. It was my fault that yours was ruined. It only makes sense that I be the one to reconcile the problem. Now put my dress on, it should fit you." Sarah didn't argue as Annabelle pulled the sapphire dress over Sarah's head. It fit her somewhat tightly in the hips as Annabelle's had been tailored to her less womanly figure, but it was barely noticeable. "Now sit down," Annabelle instructed and Sarah obeyed and sat in the chair in front of the mirror. Annabelle pulled the blue diamond comb from her hair and began to refasten it in Sarah's.

"Annabelle I can't, really it's too much. What if I lose the comb? Or break it?" Sarah asked with wide eyes. Annabelle only smiled at her.

"It looks too beautiful on you not to wear it. You look gorgeous really." Annabelle said. Sarah stood and gave Annabelle a hug. "No go enjoy the party, I'll try and wash the stain from your dress." Before either of them could move, Medda came into the room, shutting the door behind her careful to not open it too far.

"My Sarah, that dress looks lovely on you, but dear," Medda said turning to Annabelle, "what were you planning on wearing?" Annabelle picked up Sarah's ruined dress and Medda made a waving motion with her hands.

"Nonsense, I've clothing enough for you to wear. Now, first things first, what's you're name dear?" Annabelle smiled.

"I'm Annabelle Danvers, Ma'am." Medda smiled and kissed Annabelle on both cheeks.

"Call me Medda, darling, everyone else does. Now come, let me find a dress for you." Medda began studying the dresses on the racks and talking to herself. "No, no not that one…maybe, no that won't do."

"Annabelle, why don't you take your dress back and I'll wear one of Medda's. That makes more sense," Sarah said. Annabelle shook her head.

"It makes more sense for you to wear the dress you already have on. I'll feel more comfortable wearing one of Medda's dresses anyway. You look beautiful and I wouldn't take that dress back if you forced it on me." Sarah hugged Annabelle again and Medda turned holding a dress up.

"This one will look stunning on you!" she declared. Annabelle took the dress from Medda and pulled it on.

It was an emerald dress with ornate beading on the fitted bodice. The asymmetrical hem started at her left ankle and stopped mid calve on her right leg. The three quarter sleeves hung off her shoulders and the bust line was straight across. Annabelle wasn't used to wearing such dresses. Her wardrobe, save for her party gowns, was over conservative, and though the dress Medda gave her was fashionable, it made Annabelle slightly uncomfortable to be showing her shoulders.

"You look gorgeous," Sarah said and helped her clip her hair back with a similar emerald comb that Medda had let her borrow. It didn't hold as much of her hair up and several more strands hung around her face and shoulders.

"It isn't too…_revealing_?" Annabelle asked with a nervous laugh. Sarah shook her head and Medda chuckled.

"Maybe more than you're used to, but I've seen lots of women wear dresses like that to the parties Medda has here. My mother has a similar one she made, only the hem isn't as high on the right side, but your boot covers it." Sarah said in a comforting voice.

"You two go out there now, I have more songs to sing," Medda said smiling. Both girls gave Medda a hug and exited the dressing room.

Sarah pulled Annabelle back through the crowd, and several of the boys stopped to stare at them. Annabelle blushed and kept her eyes on the ground and blindly let Sarah pull her back to the table.

"What do ya mean ya don't know where they went? Aint ya got eyes in ya head?" Annabelle heard Spot's raised voice. She forgot to tell him where they had gone.

"Look, there they are now," Racetrack said, obviously grateful to have an answer for the King of Brooklyn and end the berating he was forced to endure. Spot turned around and saw Sarah walking toward their table.

"Sarah," he called. "Where did Annabelle go, I been lookin for her all over the…" Spot stopped and nearly choked on his words. Sarah had moved to the side and he saw Annabelle standing behind her with her eyes on the ground. Spot had barely noticed that Sarah was wearing the dress Annabelle had been earlier. He was too focused on the new dress Annabelle was wearing. His eyes traveled from the small amount of ankle he could see upward to the fitted bodice that hugged her hips and waist to the skin exposed below her throat and on her shoulders. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he took in the mess or curls piled on the back of her head and into her eyes. His feet carried him forward until he stood directly in front of her. He placed a hand on her cheek and forced her to look up at him. He cheeks were bright red and she was trying to avoid eye contact.

"I um, spilled juice on Sarah's dress…um she and I traded then um Medda let me borrow, and I um…does it look bad?" Spot grinned at her stuttering.

"Ya look beautiful," he said in a low and somewhat husky tone. Annabelle smiled but the blush on her cheeks only deepened.

"Hey boys, miss me?" Medda called from the stage. Everyone cheered, but Annabelle and Spot just kept starring at each other. "Let's slow it down for a moment, for all you young couples out there." Annabelle barely noticed as Spot was leading her toward the section of the room where the tables had been cleared for dancing.

The piano began playing in the background and Spot took one of Annabelle's hands in his, the other firmly on her waist and hers on his shoulder.

"**It's not the pale moon that excites me that thrills and delights me, oh no. It's just nearness of you**." Spot pulled Annabelle closer, their bodies pressed together and he smiled down at her, a nervous smile on her face._ "_**It isn't your sweet conversation that brings this sensation, oh no. It's just nearness of you. When you're in my arms and I feel you so close to me. All my wildest dreams came true. I need no soft lights to enchant me if you would only grant me the right to hold ever so tight, and to feel in the night the nearness of you**_._" The song ended and Annabelle noticed for the first time the several couples around her. It seemed Spot and Jack weren't the only Newsies to bring dates, which Annabelle was grateful.

"Come on," Spot said and pulled her off the dance floor and back over to the table. They sat down and Spot kept his arm on the back of her chair. Sarah and Jack joined them a moment later and the table filled with Racetrack, David, Les, Bug, Switch and Tick.

"Hey so you boys still comin over for poker night aint ya?" Race asked the new combers. They nodded and sent their agreements.

"I'll never understand why you boys gamble away all your money," Sarah said which resulted in several boo's from the boys. "It's a horrible habit."  
"I have to agree with Sarah," Annabelle chimed in to the aid of her friend. She shivered as she felt Spot twirling a strand of her hair around his index finger. "There are much better hobbies to find."

"Oh ya? Have you ever gambled?" Race asked her. Annabelle shook her head. "Then ya aint ganna understand why its fun. It's a man's game, ya wouldn't get it."

"Ya ganna take that from him?" Spot asked as he leaned over to Annabelle's ear. She looked up at Spot and he just raised an eyebrow.

"I'll tell you what, Mr. Racetrack," Annabelle said with a newfound confidence, "Why don't you teach me why it's so fun." She held Race's gaze and matched it. Several of the boys chuckled at her forwardness.

"What do ya take me for Annabelle? I'm a gentleman, I don't take money from girls," he said and the boys cheered.

"Well neither do I, but I'm willing to make an exception." Everyone at the table laughed and Race became flustered.

"Gimme a deck a cards. Who's in?" Switch, Jack, David, and Tick agreed to play. Annabelle took the coin purse from the pocket in Sarah's dress and tossed in her coin to play.

X

Eleven hands later only Jack, Race and Annabelle were left. She'd learned to play poker from Mr. Long, but in truth she wasn't very good for lack of practice. She let Spot look at her cards over her shoulder and he pointed to a card and Annabelle set it down.

"Two cards please," she said and Race passed her two off the top of the deck. She smiled as she saw the face cards she had received.

"It's your bet, Annabelle," Jack said before taking a sip from the beer bottle. Annabelle looked up at Spot and he gave her a short nod.

"Ten cents," she said and set a dime on the pile. Jack laid his cards face down and scratched the back of is neck. Racetrack stared at her with one eyebrow raised.

"Ya bluffin, I call, all in" he said as he added his last dime to the pile. "Full house, nine's over sevens," Race said with a smile. Annabelle furrowed her brow and set her cards down.

"Well I have four jacks, is that a better hand?" she asked and looked up at Spot. He laughed and the cigar fell out of Racetrack's mouth.

"I lost? I…I never lose." he said and Annabelle discovered that indeed, four of a kind beat a full house. "I want a rematch! Double or nothin!" he demanded.

"Hey, Annabelle won fair and square Race, ya gatta cut ya losses while ya still can," Jack said and the table laughed.

"I'll tell you what Race, next round of drinks are on me," Annabelle proposed. The table cheered and Annabelle felt a sense of pride rush over her.

"I'm orderin the most expensive drink," Race muttered and everyone dispersed to their conversations. Annabelle turned to Spot who was still grinning and she took his hand placing something in it. He looked down and saw fifty cents.

"It's only fair I split the winnings with you since you helped…a little," she teased. Spot raised an eyebrow.

"A _little_?" he asked and Annabelle smiled. He rolled his eyes and stuffed the money in his pocket.

"Ya know Annabelle, for someone who discourages gamblin, ya sure do it pretty good," Race said after he ordered his drink. "What's a dame like you do for laughs? Ya know, fun?"

"Well, I enjoy reading very much. Going for walks in Central Park is enjoyable," she said and she saw Spot grin out of the corner of her eye. "I suppose at events like this, usually I would play the piano but I prefer…"

"No way, yous play the piano?" Race asked in a loud voice. Everyone at the piano turned to see what the commotion was. "Ya gatta play for us!" he exclaimed.

"No really, I don't…I don't like playing for people, it's not my…" Race had already stood and was walking swiftly toward the stage where Medda was finishing another song. He waved to her and she knelt down so he could whisper something in her ear. Medda stood and smiled brightly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce, in her debut performance, Miss Annabelle Danvers!" Annabelle blanched as everyone began to cheer.

"Go on Annabelle," Spot said smiling. Annabelle looked up at him and shook her head. "What's the matta, ya scared?" She looked away abashed. "Come on Annabelle, aint no one here ganna make ya feel stupid except you."

"I don't like playing the piano…James always makes me play for him and I hate it." Spot shrugged and waved it off.

"Then don't play for him, he aint even here. Play for you, play for fun." Spot encouraged. She stood on trembling legs and everyone cheered louder. Racetrack helped her up and Medda took her arm and pulled her over to the piano. The man who had been playing for Medda smiled kindly to her and stood so she could sit. Reluctantly Annabelle sat at the piano. It wasn't as nice as the one she was used to, but the black and white keys looked the same as always.

As she rest her fingers on them, she remembered the feeling of James standing behind her leaving unwanted kissed on her neck and shoulder. She shivered and shook her head.

"Play something!" someone yelled from a seat near the stage and everyone laughed. Annabelle looked out at them, her eyes watery. She stood and began making her way off stage quickly, much to the aggravation of the others. They began booing. "Where's she going?" the same drunken Newsie from before called. Spot, who was walking past, pushed the Newsie out of his chair and jumped onto the stage. He caught Annabelle as she walked to him.

"Spot really, I don't want to do this. It will make me think of James too much, please, don't make me do this." The people in the crowd were restlessly conversing.

"Then don't think about him. Ya aint playin for him," he said as he sat her back down at the piano. "If ya aint playin for James, and ya aint ganna play for you, then play for me." Spot was surprised when the words came out of his mouth, but he was even more surprised at how visibly Annabelle relaxed. He placed his finger under her chin and tilted her head so she was looking at him. "It's just you and me, alright?" Annabelle nodded and flexed her still trembling fingers.

She searched the recesses of her mind wondering what to play. Most of the time she had to look at the sheet music, she had only a select few songs memorized and she couldn't seem to think of a single one. Her eyes darted to the crowd, but Spot stepped between them and her line of sight. She took in a deep breath, looked back at the keys and played the first thing that came.

"_Late at night when all the world is sleeping, I stay up and think of you. And I wish on a star that somewhere you are thinking of me too. 'Cause I'm dreaming of you tonight, till tomorrow, I'll be holding you tight. And there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be than here in my room, dreaming about you and me._

"_Wonder if you ever see me and I wonder if you know I'm there. If you looked in my eyes would you see what's inside? Would you even care? I just wanna hold you close, but so far all I have are dreams of you. So I wait for the day and the courage to say how much I love you. 'Cause I'm dreaming of you tonight, till tomorrow, I'll be holding you tight and there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be, than here in my room dreaming about you and me._

"_Late at night when all the world is sleeping I stay up and think of you. And I wait for day I have the courage to say that I love you, and you love me too. Now I'm dreaming with you tonight till tomorrow and for all of my life. 'Cause there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be, than here in my room dreaming with you endlessly._

Everyone began cheering as the final note from the piano faded. Annabelle looked up from the piano and saw Spot starring at her and she felt even more nervous than before. He took her hand and kissed it.

"Ya play beautiful," he said in a gentle tone and Annabelle gave him a soft smile. He helped off the stage and back to the table where she was warmly met by everyone.

"Well I hope you aren't going to replace me, now," Medda called from the stage and everyone laughed. "How about livening up the place?" Everyone cheered and the festive music resumed as the piano struck up, another man was playing the violin and Medda was singing.

"Dance with me," Sarah said to Jack and he smiled as he took her hand and led her back to the dance floor where the other couples were gathering.

"Spare a dance?" David asked Annabelle. She turned and looked at Spot had been pulled into conversation with the boy Decker from Harlem.

"Sure," she said and took his hand. Annabelle wasn't very good at the kind of dancing they were doing, but David was a patient teacher. She laughed as they spun in circles around the dance floor and when they bumped into Jack and Sarah, the two boys grinned and changed partners.

"I think you stole my partner!" Sarah called as David led her past Jack and Annabelle.

"I think you stole my partner too!" Annabelle called back. "Switch back?" she asked in a teasing voice. Sarah laughed and they spun in such a way to switch partners, but when Sarah landed in Jack's arms, Annabelle landed in different arms.

"Hey!" David called and Annabelle smiled as she saw Racetrack dancing with her.

"To slow, Davy, ya gatta be quicker." Racetrack said and he winked at Annabelle.

And so the dance continued. Annabelle ended up dancing with at least six of the Manhattan Newsies before she ended up back with David. Sarah stumbled over to her as the song ended and they collapsed in chairs both out of breath and flushed.

"My feet hurt," Sarah said brushing the hair out of her face. Annabelle could only nod her agreement as she was too winded to form words

They barely had time to rest however as the music began playing again.

X

Quite some time later Annabelle was dancing with Les to a slower song. He was telling Annabelle all about how he and Jack and David had "really told off Pulitzer" and Annabelle couldn't keep the smile from her face.

As her parents had died when she was five, she'd had never had the opportunity to learn what it would be like to have brothers or sisters. Her smile increased as she felt the joy of being embraced by so many of the Newsies. They made it almost impossible to feel uncomfortable. Their easy going nature made them ideal for friendship. She would certainly never be bored with friends like them

They were such a high contrast from the people Annabelle normally associated herself with. She was used to girls her age being arrogant and snooty. Their conversations rarely varied from money, their father's, their fiancés, and their many accomplishments.

However, with the Newsies, they were people who had more life experience than rich people twice their age. They knew suffering yet they thrived. They were both young and old. Annabelle, for the first time, knew what it was like to meet people with real depth and real hearts. She cared for them already.

Annabelle and Les stopped dancing when she felt tow hands on her waist. She turned as smiled as she saw as Spot standing behind her.

"Ya ready ta go?" he asked. Annabelle looked at the clock hanging over the bar. It was nearing midnight. She nodded and touched Sarah's arm as she and Jack were dancing next to them.

"Spot and I are going now, will you be able to let me know what your parents say about tomorrow?"

"Oh," Sarah said and she too seemed to notice the time. "Jack, we should be going too. Les needs to get to bed."

"No I don't, I'm perfectly fine. I'm not even tired." He would have been convincing, had it not been for the large yawn that followed his statement. The small group laughed and Jack ruffled his hair.

X

"This is us," David said as they stopped outside a tall apartment building. "Looks like my parents are still awake," he noted and pointed to the window with the lights still lit.

"Annabelle, why don't you come up really quick? I'm sure my parents would love to meet you," Sarah invited.

"Go on, I'll wait down here," Spot said as she looked to him for permission. Annabelle smiled and Jack gave Sarah a kiss on the cheek before she and David led her and Les up the stairs to their home.

"Mom, Dad, we're home," David called once they had stepped through the door. Annabelle hung back as the three met their parents, whom Annabelle noticed were sitting at the dining room table.

"Where did you get that dress?" Sarah's mother asked. "It's simply gorgeous." Sarah said something in a lower tone and handed her mother the ruined dress.

"My new friend Annabelle lent this dress to me," Sarah said and everyone in the room turned to face the new arrival.

"Well, Annabelle, that was a very kind thing of you to do. I'm Esther and this is my husband Mayar." the woman said kindly.

"Lovely to meet you," Annabelle said and shook both their hands. "You have a very nice home."

"Thank you," Mayar said. "Now, young man," he said to Les. "It's well past your bedtime, off you go." Les said goodnight to Annabelle before running into the spare room to change into his pajamas.

"Mom," Sarah said, "Annabelle invited me to stay the evening with her tomorrow night. Can I go?"

"I don't see why not, you don't have school until Monday. You won't be too tired for Sunday chores will you?"

"No," Sarah said, her face lighting up. "Let me go change, I'll be back in a moment." She grabbed a bundle of clothing and slipped into the washroom.

"So Annabelle, what business are your parents in?" Mayar asked and Esther slapped his shoulder.

"Oh, my parents passed away a long time ago, but my father owned real estate across the country."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. It must be difficult growing up without parents." Esther said and Annabelle just shrugged. It wasn't one of her favorite topics.

"If you don't mind me asking, who looks after the land now that your parents are gone?" Mayar inquired and his wife slapped his arm again.

"Well, the land is still under our family name. It's being taken care of by caretakers for now. When I turn eighteen it will become mine, so I assume, I'll be caring for it them." Annabelle answered.

"Oh I see. I work as a clerk in a real estate agency, is why I'm curious. If you have any questions concerning the land, feel free to ask anytime."

"Thank you, sir. That is a kind offer. I'm sure when the title to the property is handed over I will take you up on that." Sarah emerged from the bathroom wearing another dress and the sapphire one was folded neatly.

"Here you are," she said and tried to hand it back to Annabelle, but she didn't accept it.

"No I can't take that back, you keep it. I ruined your other dress, its only right that I replace it," Annabelle stated.

"Oh, no I couldn't accept it. This dress is much nicer than my other one and I'm sure mother and I can get the stain out."

"Please take it, I will feel better if you do. I feel just horrid about spilling punch on your nice dress. Please, please accept it." Sarah hesitated, but smiled.

"Alright then. Oh, I need directions to your house for tomorrow night." Sarah said in realization.

"Why don't I just have my driver pick you up here? It's a rather long walk and I'd hate for you to take it alone."

"That is kind, here," Sarah said and scribbled something on a piece of paper. "Here's the address here. I'll be waiting outside around five?"

"Perfect. I'd better go, Spot is waiting for me downstairs." Annabelle hugged Sarah and shook hands with her parents before she left the apartment.

When she got downstairs, Spot was leaning up against the building next to the door when she emerged. He smiled to her and Annabelle felt the familiar butterflies in her stomach.

"Ready?" he asked and he took her hand in his as she nodded. Annabelle had expected him to wrap her arm around his as was customary, but instead he kept his right hand laced with her left as they walk. Annabelle smiled and placed her right hand on his arm and they walked as though they had all the time in the world.

It was a lazy sort of walk, and neither of them showed signs of picking up the pace. Annabelle's house was almost three miles Sarah and David's home and the two enjoyed each step in a peaceful silence.

It was late and the streets were empty save for random groups of people near alleys. Spot had warned Annabelle the city was dangerous at night, but she had never felt safer in her entire life than she did at that moment. With Spot at her side.

_**On a night like this I could fall in love, I could fall in love with you. In this dark so dense we talk so soft, the way young lovers do. The day's last sight turns to cool night's breeze and this love hangs thick like these willow leaves. I've hid myself away from this, but your silhouette is the true love's kiss. On a night like this I could fall in love, I could fall in love with you.**_

X

All too soon they were approaching Annabelle's house. They stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading to the front door and Annabelle turned to Spot.

"Thank you for tonight, Spot. It's the most fun I've had in…a long time," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. She feared disturbing the peaceful night.

"Annabelle," Spot said and his eyes held hers. She tried to drop her gaze, but he placed a hand on her cheek and drew her eyes back in. "You're beautiful, ya know that?" Annabelle blushed but a small smile appeared on her face. He slipped his other hand around her waist and pulled her into his embrace. Annabelle's heart fluttered with nerves and she went rigid.

"I um…maybe I should go in it's getting late and I'd hate for Mrs. Long to come into my room and find me gone. I mean, she doesn't normally check on me during the night, but she might and I…"

"Annabelle," Spot said leaning his forehead against hers. "Stop talkin," he whispered with a small laugh. Annabelle swallowed the lump in her throat and managed a small nod. Spot grinned and closed the remaining distance between their lips.

Annabelle felt her knees begin to buckle and placed her trembling hands on his shoulders to steady herself.

A quick flash of James entered her mind. That night, he had stolen her first kiss. It was a traumatizing experience and Annabelle was repulsed by him.

But this kiss was different. It felt right. Her hands were shaking, her head was swimming. She was dizzy and euphoric at the same time. Her skin tingled and she responded as he deepened the kiss. It was natural the way their lips and bodies fit together, like it was meant to be.

He stopped the kiss first and a small moan escaped from Annabelle's throat. Spot grinned as he pressed their foreheads together again.

"Goodnight Annabelle," he said and lightly kissed her again. He slowly released her and for a moment she swooned and he had to steady her. She carefully walked up the stairs to the front door, her mind in a haze, and as she was slipping inside, she turned and looked at Spot one last time.

"Goodnight," she said a brilliant smile on her face. He returned the smile and she gently clicked the door shut. Her heart was still beating wildly in her chest as she made her way upstairs, unaware of the pair of dark eyes that had been watching from the alley across the street.

**A/N** 'Come Away With Me' Nora Jones, 'Nearness of You' Nora Jones, 'Dreaming of You' Selena, 'Night Like This' David Barnes.


	8. My World and What's to Come

**A/N **Annabelle will sing in _italics_. Spot will sing in **bold**. And together its _**bold italics**_.

Annabelle woke to the sound of footsteps in the hallway. She opened her eyes and an elated feeling overcame her.

_Spot_.

Mrs. Long knocked on her door and entered. Annabelle smiled to the older woman as she hopped out of bed.

"Isn't it a beautiful day?" Annabelle asked and rushed to the window. She threw it open and took in a deep breath. "Simply gorgeous. Mrs. Long," Annabelle said and turned to the older woman who had a puzzled expression on her face. "I feel I may have been too cruel to you these last few days. You have been a faithful nurse to me for almost eighteen years. You can be quite unkind to me at times, but you have always had my best interest at heart. I thank you for that," Annabelle kissed Mrs. Long on both cheeks and offered her a bright smile before sitting at her vanity mirror.

"Good heavens child, where has this sudden burst of life come from?" Mrs. Long inquired as she watched the youthful teen comb the tangles from her hair.

"I don't think you would believe me if I told you. It's just so difficult to keep from smiling when one's heart is so happy, wouldn't you agree?" Mrs. Long starred at Annabelle, her posture as rigid as ever, but there was a small tear forming in the corner of her eye and the corner of her mouth turned upward.

"Well," she said and cleared her throat as it had begun to constrict, "let's hope that cheerful heart will help you pick out something to wear today."

"Oh yes," Annabelle said jumping from her chair. "What to wear, what to wear?" Annabelle threw open the doors to her wardrobe and began pulling out dresses. "No, no this won't do, it's far to warm for long sleeves."

"Long sleeves are fashionable for a young lady living in the city," Mrs. Long said as she began picking up the carelessly tossed garments.

"Oh who cares what's fashionable? Who decides what's fashionable anyway? Obviously it is some silly man who has no idea how painful corsets are and how hot one can get wearing long sleeves on a sunny day," stated Annabelle. She pulled a white short sleeved dress with a soft pink skirt from the wardrobe and held it up to herself.

"I haven't seen you wear that dress in ages," Mrs. Long said as she helped her into it. "Mr. Archibald will be bringing over his calligraphy booklets today," Mrs. Long added as she recovered her decorum.

"That reminds me, I'll be going to Brooklyn for my piano lessons today." Mrs. Long looked surprised again. "And my new friend Sarah will be staying the evening tonight."

"Sarah?" Mrs. Long asked. "Who might her parents be, I do not remember her name. Was she due for a visit?"

"No, I met her a few days ago. Her parents are Mayer and Esther. They are quite lovely. I have the address to her house on my nightstand. Please ask Mr. Long to be there a little before five to pick her up."

"Well…if, I" Mrs. Long stuttered but Annabelle gave an unwavering but not unkind stare that ceased her questioning. "If Mr. Long must be in Manhattan before five," Mrs. Long said as she read over the address, "How will you get home from your piano lessons at four? He cannot make both trips." Annabelle furrowed her brow and bit her lower lip. "We'll have to send another carriage for you."

"Oh no, I'll just walk home. It's only a few miles." Mrs. Long looked slightly flustered and for a moment she seemed as though she couldn't speak.

"Walk? You will walk home _unescorted_. I-I won't have that. It's simply unsafe for you to walk the streets of New York alone."

"Well, then send for another coach if you must," Annabelle said as she pulled her hair back and secured it with a hair comb. "I care not, but if my friend should arrive before I do I want her to be well cared for." Mrs. Long nodded and handed Annabelle her stockings and shoes, which she promptly slipped on.

"I'll have the maids set out the good china," Mrs. Long said more to herself than to Annabelle. "It is a rather unexpected event…though; most of your decisions lately have been rather…unexpected."

X

"Miss Danvers, pay attention please," Mr. Archibald said as he wrapped his ruler on the table. Annabelle snapped her head back around as she had been starring out the window. "You are very distracted today, Miss Danvers. I fear you won't finish your calligraphy work before the hour is over."

"Sorry, Mr. Archibald," Annabelle said, but she didn't really mean it. She turned back to the parchment in front of her and scratched away at the lettering. Before she had even finished another line, Mrs. Long came in.

"Annabelle, it is time for you to depart for piano lessons. Mr. Long is already waiting for you outside." Annabelle stood so quickly she bumped the small desk and the ink well spilled all over her homework.

"Oh, now look what you've done!" Mr. Archibald said, but Annabelle was already running out of the room and down the hall.

"Don't run Annabelle!" Mrs. Long called, but she didn't stop. "That girl has gone mad!"

Annabelle ran straight to the front door and threw it open. She stopped in her tracks, a gasp escaping her as she nearly ran into someone. They turned, as their back had been to her, and removed their top hat revealing a bald head with a scar.

"Mr. Doyle?" Annabelle asked with a slightly breathless tone. Mr. Doyle raised his eyebrows as he noted her flushed cheeks. "What are you doing here?" Her euphoric feeling shattered at the sight of him.

"I thought I would _escort_ you to your piano lessons. I'd hate for you to miss them, again." Annabelle felt a twinge of panic begin to climb up her spine. She frantically searched her mind for a way to get rid of him, but as none came, and too much time had elapsed in her thinking, she forced a smile and nodded. He extended a hand and she walked to the carriage.

"Miss Danvers," Mr. Long said as he tipped his hat. He looked at her with a sympathetic smile and she subtly shook her head. He helped her into the coach and Mr. Doyle sat across from her. She avoided eye contact and kept her eyes focused on the surroundings as Mr. Long snapped the reins.

X

They rode in utter silence. Mr. Doyle starred at Annabelle with his hawk like and beady eyes. Whenever she accidentally made eye contact, she would force a small smile, but as it wasn't returned, she would look away again.

The coach turned onto the Brooklyn Bridge. Annabelle had forgotten they had to take the bridge to get there. She starred out at the railing as they slowly made there was across it.

For some unexplainable reason, Annabelle felt her heart begin to palpitate. Her hands became sweaty and she felt her stomach churn as they neared the center of the bridge.

"Afraid of heights, Miss Danvers?" Mr. Doyle asked in anything but a concerned tone. Her eyes darted to his. "It's quite a long way down, isn't it? Indeed, it would be quite awful to take a tumble off the bridge, wouldn't you say?" Annabelle looked away from him, but nodded.

"Quite awful," she said and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Her mouth had gone dry and she squeezed her eyes shut. _Almost there…almost safe_.

Finally, the wheels of the coach were safely on stable ground and Annabelle let herself breath again. Mr. Doyle was still scowling, but he seemed to have a glint of amusement in his eyes. He had found a weakness, a way to scare her. He loved it.

It was only a five minute drive from the bridge to the small piano studio where a one, Mrs. Douglas taught piano lessons to young ladies.

Mr. Long pulled the coach to a stop just outside the studio and helped Annabelle out. He winked at her in a friendly fashion and she smiled to him. He covered his mouth with his handkerchief and coughed as he took his place in the driver's seat.

"Thank you for escorting me to the studio, Mr. Doyle. It was a very kind thing of you to do." Mr. Doyle flinched as she said the word _kind_. Annabelle's eyes widened as she Spot approaching from behind Mr. Doyle. He caught her eye and smiled and she subtly shook her head. Mr. Doyle caught her expression and turned around, but as he did, Spot ducked into the nearby alley and was almost seen.

"What are you starring at?" Mr. Doyle inquired in a vexed tone as he turned back to Annabelle. She looked from the alley to Mr. Doyle and laughed nervously.

"Oh nothing, I just thought I saw…Mrs. Long, but it wasn't her. Funny how you mistake people sometimes isn't it?" she asked with another chuckle. Mr. Doyle rolled his eyes. "Well, you should be going now, I'm sure you're a very busy man."

"Not at all," Mr. Doyle said. "I had planned on staying to hear you play, then escorting you back, as was requested by my master."

"Well, I, uh…I would love for you to stay, Mr. Doyle, but Mrs. Douglas doesn't let anyone stay to listen to her students play. She says it makes us nervous, and she's right."

"I've heard you play on many occasions. There's no reason to be nervous around _me_ is there?" Annabelle wanted to laugh in his face, but she resisted. She forced another smile and entered the studio.

"Ah, my dearest Annabelle," a tall woman with olive skin, and graying black hair said. Her voice was thick with a Spanish accent. "Where have you been, my darling. It seems so long since I have last seen you." Mrs. Douglas kissed Annabelle on both cheeks before looking up at Mr. Doyle. "Who's is this?"

"Mrs. Douglas, this is Mr. Doyle, a servant of my fiancé's. He has expressed a desire to stay and hear me practice the piano." Mrs. Douglas looked up at Mr. Doyle with pursed lips, her brown eyes scowling.

"Well, Mr. Doyle, let me inform you that it is a strict rule of mine that no one is to stay and hear my students practice. I feel it distracts from my tutoring. So I'm afraid you will have to go."

"I'm sure you can make an exception. I am under orders of my master to ensure his fiancé's safety at all times. Perhaps that will sway the strictness of your rules." Mr. Doyle seemed certain of himself, which only made Mrs. Douglas's temper flare.

"I am not in the habit of bending my rules Mr. Doyle, now if you would please leave my shop so I may begin. My time is very valuable." Mr. Doyle opened his mouth to argue, but Mrs. Douglas cut him off. "I do not care who your _master_ is. Inside this shop, I am master, and I say out." She began ushering Mr. Doyle out the door. "Go on now, you want to stay, you buy lessons from me." She closed the door after pushing Mr. Doyle out and then turned back to Annabelle. "Darling, why have you not been to see me?" Just as Annabelle was about to answer, they both heard the back door open and someone trip over something. "Oh, that better not be your scowling friend, again." Mrs. Douglas went into the back room and she emerged a moment later holding Spot by the back of the neck. "Out you riff-raff, this is no place for you!"

"Wait, Mrs. Douglas, he's my friend!" Annabelle said and Mrs. Douglas stopped in her tracks. "He was planning on meeting me here, but we didn't want to be seen by Mr. Doyle. You see, he…well he would tell my fiancé about it and well…" Annabelle looked at her with pleading eyes and Mrs. Douglas looked between Annabelle and Spot.

"I see," she said shortly. "So this is why you have not been to see me. Well, who am I to stand in the way. Go, go on now. You two can go out the back. I'll keep your scowling friend at bay," she said with a small smile. Mrs. Douglas released Spot and he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'll go see if it's safe out back," he said before disappearing into the back room where the exit to the alley was. Mrs. Douglas stopped Annabelle as she was about to follow him.

"The American boys can be quite charming, no? I fell for one myself you know. It was my husband's hands that won me over. A man with good hands will make a strong husband," Mrs. Douglas said as she took Annabelle's hands into her own. "You always had nice hands my dear, but I fear they never wanted to play the piano as much as I wanted them to."

"Thank you, Mrs. Douglas. I should have known you'd understand." Spot came back in the room and beckoned for Annabelle to come. "I promise, I'll come and play for you again sometime." Mrs. Douglas smiled and waved her off with a laugh.

"Oh, such silly American's and their young love," she muttered to herself with another laugh.

X

Spot took Annabelle's hand as they exited the alley. He peered around the corner of the building and Annabelle looked around his shoulder. They both saw Mr. Doyle standing on the far corner of the block with his right hand on the end of his cane and he tapped it on the ground impatiently.

Spot held a finger to his lips as they slowly made their way out of the alley. They kept their gaze on Mr. Doyle until they had successfully made it half a block away from him. The streets were slightly crowded and offered some protection from his line of sight. Spot looked over his shoulder one last time and saw Mr. Doyle walking their direction with his hand shading his eyes and squinting.

"Run!" he said and began pulling Annabelle down the street. Annabelle looked behind her and saw Mr. Doyle walking more quickly, but he slammed into someone and toppled to the ground. She laughed and continued to run as Spot weaved between people.

"Wait, Spot!" she said as her hand slipped out of his, after they had run nearly seven blocks. He darted past a group of people and when Annabelle came to the other side of them, he was nowhere in sight. She stopped and looked in all directions. "Spot?" she called, but he didn't answer. Annabelle gasped as she felt an arm wrap around her waist from behind. She was being pulled backward into the alley and a hand went over her mouth. She screamed into the hand, but it was muffled beyond recognition. She instinctively drove her elbow into the person behind her.

"Hey, it's me," a familiar voice said as they coughed roughly. Annabelle turned around as she was released and saw Spot holding his stomach. "I guess this is the thanks I get for savin ya," he said with a small chuckle.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Annabelle said and her hands flew to cover her mouth. Her attitude changed and she slapped his shoulder. "You scared me!" she scolded and Spot only laughed harder. "You're impossible," she said stomping her foot.

"Hey, easy there, I'm startin ta bruise," he said rubbing his shoulder. "Ya know, you're a lot stronger than ya look."

"Good," Annabelle said in a snooty tone. She couldn't help smiling however and Spot wrapped his arms around her waist. "You're going to get me into trouble," Annabelle said, but found herself melting into his embrace.

"I could say the same thing to you," Spot teased before catching her in a quick kiss. "Ya ready ta see Brooklyn?" he asked and it took Annabelle a moment before she nodded. "Good." He took her hand and led her from the alley onto the busy street.

"Aren't you selling newspapers today?" Annabelle asked once they had safely deduced Mr. Doyle was nowhere in sight.

"I finished already. It was a good morning for sellin, usually is when the weather is nice" he said causally.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked excitedly, but Spot didn't answer. "Aren't you going to tell me?" she inquired again.

"Do ya always gatta ask this many questions, maybe it's a surprise?" he asked back with a small smile on his face. Annabelle sighed. "Alright, if ya gatta know, I'm takin ya ta Carroll Park."

"Where is that?" Spot rolled his eyes and Annabelle just laughed at him. "See, you aren't the only one who can be a nuisance."

"Point taken."

X

Carroll Park was a mile and a half from the studio and was one of the oldest parks in New York. It was gated off and large trees shaded most of the park. Annabelle inhaled deeply and smiled to herself. It was one of the most beautiful places she'd ever seen. Central Park was lovely, yes, but it was large and almost as crowded as the streets. It seemed Carroll Park was a well kept secret. There were very few people around and the park was only a mile in circumference.

"Sarah will be spending the evening at my house tonight," Annabelle informed Spot as they walked hand in hand around the park.

"Ya? That's nice, she's a classy gal. She's good for Jack, keeps him honest." Annabelle wanted to ask if he thought she was a good girl for him. She wanted to know if she 'kept him honest', but she didn't ask.

"I had a lot of fun meeting your friends last night. I was thinking of having them over for dinner one evening." She felt Spot tense at her side.

"Ya? Well, the Manhattan Newsies and I get along and all, but I wouldn't exactly call 'em my best friends or nothin."

"Well, I met a few of the Brooklyn Newsies, too, remember? Perhaps they could come over as well. Wouldn't you like that?"

"I wasn't jokin when I said Newsies don't make the best of company, Annabelle, most of them aint got manners enough to fly a kite in a wind storm. Maybe you should just stick to keepin them as acquaintances."

"I don't understand, I thought you were friends with the Newsies. You all seemed so close last night…"Annabelle stopped walking and Spot was avoiding eye contact. "Don't you want me to get to know your friends?"

"It aint that," he said scratching the back of his neck. "It's just, they don't know how ta act around a lady. I don't think ya'd get along with 'em is all."

"I would still like to meet them. If they're a part of your life, I want them to be a part of my life as well…just like you are." Spot took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Annabelle," he said trying to keep his voice calm. "I don't think that's ganna be possible. We come from different worlds, see, and I don't think that people are ganna be too excited to see our worlds comin together."

"Since when do you care what other people think?" she inquired. "Spot, I don't understand why you're hiding your world from me. I want to be a part of it. Why won't you let me?"

" 'Cause my world aint got no room for someone like you in it!" he snapped before he could stop himself. Annabelle took a step back from him in shock. She felt tears coming to her eyes and tried to fight them off. "No, no I didn't mean it like that."

"What way did you mean it Spot? Please, I'm not trying to be difficult; I just want to understand you." Annabelle said in a small voice. Spot placed a hand on her cheek and kissed her forehead.

"Alright, if ya wanna meet me boys, then I'll take ya ta meet my boys, but don't say that I didn't warn ya ok?" Annabelle nodded. "Why don't ya come ta Brooklyn early tomorrow and we's can head down to the docks, that's where everyone meets about this time."

"Alright Spot, I can come early tomorrow," Annabelle agreed. "Shall I have Mr. Long drive me to the Newsboys Lodging house?"

"Sure, that's just fine with me. Now come on, we got the whole day ta burn." He took her hand din his and led her from the park to the busier streets of the inner city.

X

An hour later, Spot and Annabelle were happily walking along the Market streets hand in hand. Spot was keeping Annabelle entertained with stories of the strike, but only after she pleaded with him for nearly ten minutes.

"Sos the judge is sittin all high'n mighty scowlin at us, an he asks if any of us got _representation_. I's thinkin he aint got no brain in his head, so's I tell him '_I object_' and he asks me, '_on what grounds_' so I tell him '_on the grounds of Brooklyn_' naturally." Annabelle laughed and Spot beamed. He seemed quite proud of himself. "Then ol' Race tries ta roll him for it." Annabelle laughed again.

"How lovely," Annabelle said as she stopped in front of a flower cart. She stopped to smell the white lilies and a smile spread across her face. "Go on," she said to Spot.

"One," he said to the elderly woman behind the cart. She handed him a white lily and he handed it to Annabelle.

"That was sweet of you," she said with a smile. She quickly kissed him on the cheek and smelled the flower. "Please, continue with your story."

"Nah, it's your turn," Spot said as they continued their walk. "Why's this Mr. Doyle followin you so much?"

"Can't we forget that for now? We're together and Mr. Doyle and James can't bother us now." Spot stopped and turned to Annabelle.

"Look, Annabelle, I aint ganna push ya inta talkin about it if ya don't want ta. But ya ganna have ta face the facts sooner or later. James aint ganna stat in Chicago forever." He took her left hand in his and lifted it to her eye level. The diamond ring on her finger caught a ray of sunlight and sparkled. Annabelle looked down at her shoes and Spot dropped her hand.

"You're right, but not today, please?" she asked with pleading eyes. "Everything is just so perfect, I don't want to let that go yet." Spot forced a smile and nodded. Annabelle linked her arm with his. "So tell me more about the Strike."

"Well," Spot began. He rambled mindlessly, keeping her entertained with his stories, but his mind was still focused on the elephant in the room. As far as he could determine, there were several reasons why he should just drop Annabelle and walk away. But as soon as he thought about leaving, something in his stomach churned painfully. The thought of seeing her hopeless and ready to jump off the bridge, sent his heart thumping painfully in his chest.

He knew it couldn't last. He knew that they were flirting with time and he knew that sooner than either of them wanted some ugly things were going to surface. But like Annabelle had said, 'Not today'. Not today…but maybe tomorrow.

X

Spot and Annabelle had to sneak in the back of the music studio as Mr. Doyle was still outside when they returned. Mrs. Douglas was dusting a bookshelf when they slipped in.

"There you are, I was beginning to wonder if I should tell your skulking friend that you were staying the evening," Mrs. Douglas teased. "I trust you two had fun?"

"Yes Mrs. Douglas, we did." Annabelle answered. She nodded to them and left the back room. Annabelle turned to Spot and smiled to him. "See you tomorrow, then."

"Bright and early," he said with a small grin. He pulled her into his embrace and kissed her, and just like that Annabelle felt herself melting. With the smallest amount of encouragement, he had her backed against the wall, all propriety forgotten.

"Alright then, that's enough of that!" Mrs. Douglas snapped as she came into the room. Reluctantly, the two parted and as Annabelle's cheeks turned bright red, Spot just grinned and tried kissed her again. "Hey, now. This is no brothel!"

"We got it," Spot said releasing Annabelle. " Tomorrow," he said holding her eyes. She nodded and waited till the last possible moment to release his hand. Mrs. Douglas took her by the arms and ushered her out of the room.

"Alright then Miss Danvers, I will see you tomorrow, same time as always," Mrs. Douglas said as she walked Annabelle outside. "Ah, Mr. Doyle, I see you're still here."

"Indeed," Mr. Doyle said with a scowl. "Miss Danvers, I assume your lessons went well." Mrs. Douglas handed Annabelle her a shall and she used it to cover the lily she still held.

"They did Mr. Doyle, thank you for your concern. Ah, here comes the carriage," she said pointing to the white coach that pulled up to the curb. Mr. Long, as assumed, was not the driver, but instead was one of the other drivers in employment.

Annabelle and Mr. Doyle sat opposite one another in the coach as is sped along. They neared the bridge and Annabelle was fidgeting in her seat. She starred out the side of the coach and she had to stifle a laugh as she saw Spot walking along the bridge.

_A thousand thoughts of you will haunt me ever after. The music of your laughter will serenade my heart. A thousand thoughts of you will roam the night and find me. With chains of love, they'll bind me to dreams that won't depart. Your face, your smile, the moonlight in your hair._

Spot decided to visit Manhattan for a poker night and intentionally rushed for the bridge in hopes of catching one last sight of Annabelle. He spotted her coach approaching and did his best not to stare at Annabelle.

**Your lips, your eyes, I'll see them everywhere. A thousand kisses, too will keep me reminiscing. For there'll be no dismissing a thousand thoughts of you. A thousand kisses, too will keep me reminiscing. For there'll be no dismissing a thousand thoughts of you**

They briefly made eye contact and he winked at her. She longed to have him sitting across from her, rather than Mr. Doyle. Annabelle waited until Mr. Doyle was looking away and she tossed the lily on the sidewalk.

_**For there'll be no dismissing a thousand thoughts of you. A thousand kisses, too will keep me reminiscing. For there'll be no dismissing a thousand thoughts of you**_

Spot stopped mid stride and picked the flower up a grin on his face.

**For there'll be no dismissing a thousand thoughts of you. A thousand kisses, too will keep me reminiscing. For there'll be no dismissing a thousand thoughts of you**.

_Annabelle…_

**A/N** 'A Thousand Thoughts of You' Nat King Cole.

**A/N 2 Change in the last chapter! I used filler names for Sarah and David's parents until I found out what they were. Lol, silly me, I forgot to change them! Thanks to fangsangel for letting me know:) Also, a big thank you to ****smallncrazy91****, ****SerenitySnow412****, Star Angel, Shamrock, ****welivetonight****, Eden, ****For Esme****, ****enchantedwriter72****, ****-livinhell-****, wackydreams, and HUGE thank you to ****Seren McGowan**** for reviewing on EVERY CHAPTER!!**


	9. Looks Like Love

Annabelle eagerly stepped from the coach and stood on the first step of the stoop

**A/N** Sarah's singing part will be in **bold**. Annabelle's singing part will be in _italics_ and together it will be in _**bold italics**_.

Annabelle eagerly stepped from the coach and stood on the first step of the stoop. Mr. Doyle was scowling, more so than usual, when Annabelle turned to him.

"Thank you for escorting me, Mr. Doyle. I shall be retiring for the evening now," Mr. Doyle tapped his cane on the ground and for a moment he just stared at her.

"Aren't you going to invite me to stay for dinner?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. Annabelle fidgeted under his penetrating stare.

"While I would love to have you, Mr. Doyle, I fear I am already entertaining this evening and it would me impolite to invite another guest when I promised to pay close attention to my visiting friend."

"Oh, are you now? Who might this friend be?" Annabelle took another step upward; doing anything she could to distance herself from Mr. Doyle.

"Her name is Sarah Jacobs, you haven't met her," Annabelle said quickly. Mr. Doyle nodded and grabbed Annabelle's hand in a vice-like grip.

"Well then, since she seems to be such a close friend of yours, be sure to invite her to the _wedding_." Annabelle could only nod as Mr. Doyle kissed the back of her hand. She winced as he dropped her hand and her skin burned. "Have a good evening, Miss Danvers."

"You as well," Annabelle said and practically ran inside. She closed the front door and leaned against it. She closed her eyes and tried to push any thought of Mr. Doyle and James from her mind.

_Spot…_

_Spot…_

"Annabelle?" at the sound of someone calling her, Annabelle opened her eyes and saw Sarah standing halfway down the hall. She smiled and stood upright.

"Oh, Sarah, forgive me, I wasn't aware you were here yet," Annabelle said putting on a smile. The two girls hugged and Mrs. Long entered the hall from the dinning room.

"Dinner is almost ready, Annabelle why don't you show your guest to her room," Mrs. Long advised.

"Oh, yes, of course." Annabelle took the small bag Sarah had in her hand and the two girls walked up the staircase. "How has your day been so far?" Annabelle inquired once they had reached the second story.

"It's been alright, I worked at the bakery until noon today. Mama let me off early so I could finish my chores before coming over. I was so excited I could barely focus on my work." The two of them laughed and Annabelle opened the door to the guest room. Sarah set her bag on the bed and her eyes sparkled as she looked around the room.

"Come on, let's get some dinner. I'm starving!"

X

"No! He didn't!" Sarah said with a squeal. The two of them were sitting on Annabelle's bed in their night dresses. Annabelle's face was bright red, but she couldn't help but laugh along.

"It was so romantic! There we were just standing on the street in front of my house and it just…happened." Annabelle giggled again and hugged a pillow to her chest. "I can't help the way I feel when I'm around him…it's like, I can't think straight. I'm scared and yet I feel safe all at the same time." A knock came to the door so Annabelle hopped off the bed and opened it.

"I thought you ladies might like some hot chocolate," Mrs. Long said as she brought a tray in. Annabelle was slightly surprised and she shrugged her shoulders to Sarah as Mrs. Long set the tray on the nightstand. "Can I get anything else for you before I retire?"

"No thank you Mrs. Long, we're just fine," Annabelle answered. Mrs. Long stood there with her hands behind her back. She looked from Annabelle to Sarah then back to Annabelle.

"Well, alright then. Don't stay up too late, you still have your lessons tomorrow." With that, she quickly strode across the room and slipped out the door.

"Want some?" Annabelle asked as she lifted the mug to her mouth. Sarah nodded and Annabelle handed her a mug. "It seems I'm not the only one who's undergone changes. That's the closets sign of affection I've ever received from Mrs. Long."

"That's so strange," Sarah said as she sat on the edge of the bed. "So she took over guardianship of you when your parents died, but yet she works for you?"

"My mother was always busy with taking care of the household and she helped my father manage the family estates so she hired Mrs. Long to take care of the house while she raised me. Then, one night, a candle tipped and caught the drapes on fire. Mrs. Long was only able to save me from the fire because she had accidentally fallen asleep in the nursery. My parents…didn't make it out." Sarah rubbed Annabelle's arm and gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Let's talk about something happier," Sarah suggested. "Tell me more about Spot. How did you two meet, anyway?" Annabelle chuckled, but it was bittersweet. "Was it love at first sight?"

"I wouldn't exactly say that…." Annabelle said in a small voice. "It seems ages ago now…" Annabelle stared at her left hand and pulled the diamond ring off her finger. "James was having an engagement party. I didn't know a single person there, save for James and Mr. Doyle. Seventeen years of living a life of rules, propriety, and arrogance all came rushing over me like a tidal wave. I was drowning and no one could save me. I felt more alone than I ever had in my life. I have no memories of a happy childhood, or even a memory of my parents to comfort me. Marrying James is just another decision that was made for me. I wanted to escape….no…I wanted to die."

"Annabelle," Sarah said in a fragile voice. "What are you saying?" Annabelle wiped a tear from under her eye with the back of her hand and sniffled. "You tried to kill yourself?" Annabelle nodded.

"When…," she paused to clear her throat. "When the driver was taking me back home, I could see the Brooklyn Bridge in the distance." Annabelle chuckled bitterly. "I thought it was my salvation. I had the driver stop and told him I was going for a walk. As soon as he was out of sight I ran. I felt for the first time in my life that I had control over something. I ran the whole way to the bridge. I climbed to the outside rail and I was about to jump when I heard someone call out to me…."

"It was Spot, wasn't it?" Annabelle nodded again. "Wow, what a first meeting, huh?" Annabelle let out a small laugh and wiped away the tears that had accumulated on her face.

"I begged him to leave me alone, but he didn't. He stayed until I climbed back over." Annabelle laughed again. "He even walked me home. Then he asked to see me the next day and we've met everyday since….it seems so long ago. It's hard to picture what life was like before Spot…"

"Annabelle, you don't still think about killing yourself do you?" Annabelle was surprised by the question. The truth was, she hadn't thought about it in a long time. She stopped and assessed where she was emotionally. Was she still suicidal? Dying would mean leaving Spot.

_Spot…_

"No, no I don't think about killing myself anymore." Sarah wrapped her arms around Annabelle in a tight hug and both the girls laughed, but only because it kept them from crying.

"Good, we'd have to have a long talk if you were," Sarah said in mock scolding. "Its amazing that Spot was on the bridge at that exact moment. Imagine if he'd been there five minutes earlier…"

"Or five minutes too late…" Annabelle stopped to smile to herself. "It was destiny that we met." Annabelle sighed and sat at her vanity mirror as she combed her hair. Sarah watched as Annabelle starred off into space. By the dreamy look on her face she could tell whom she was thinking about.

"Are you in love with him?" Annabelle looked at Sarah first through the mirror, and then she turned around in her chair to face her. She rested her arms on the back of the chair and then her chin on her arms.

"I…don't know," Annabelle answered truthfully. "I want to say that I am…but I don't really know what love feels like. I asked Spot once and he told me that if you love someone you just know. _You're scared and excited all at the same time._ I don't really know what he means…I just don't know."

"That's how I felt, when I was first with Jack. I didn't know. I was scared to love him; unsure of how he felt. I didn't know how we could be together, I mean he's my brother's best friend, but Jack also had a reputation for being a ladies man. I didn't want to be 'just another girl' to him."

"How did you handle it?" Annabelle asked her fear evident in her voice. Sarah smiled and stood next to the bed as she leaned against the wooden poster.

"**It looked like love. It felt like love, and I confess it had me rocking on my heels like love. How else can I account for that unexpected glow? That turned the night to day each time we 'd say hello.**" Annabelle giggled and Sarah smiled brightly with a pinkish tint to her cheeks.

"_It looks like love. It might be love, but if it's not it's so darn wonderful it should be love! There's a lot more I can tell you but he takes my breath away_," Annabelle stood and jumped onto her bed. "_Yes it looks like love is here to stay. It looks like love. It could be love_…"

"**But if it's not it's so darn wonderful it should be love**," Sarah jumped onto the bed too and they both jumped up and down.

"_**There's a lot more I could tell you but he takes my breath away. Yes it looks like…**_" The door flew open and a disheveled looking Mrs. Long entered in her night dress.

"Good heavens! I thought an elephant had climbed through the window!" Sarah and Annabelle stifled a laugh. "To bed with you!" Mrs. Long snapped before shutting the door. Annabelle blew out the candle and both girls, having decided to sleep in Annabelle's room, slipped under the covers.

"Goodnight Annabelle," Sarah said with a yawn. Annabelle returned the comment and it wasn't long before Sarah was fast asleep. Annabelle, however, stared up at the canopy above her bed, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

"_Yes it looks like love is here to stay. It looks like love. It could be love_…I think I'm in love with Spot…"

X

"It was so nice having you over, Sarah. You'll have to come back soon," Annabelle said as the two girls hugged; it was just after breakfast when the girls had to say goodbye. Mrs. Long handed Sarah her bag as the cabby helped her into the coach.

"Thank you for having me, Annabelle. I had a lot of fun. We'll definitely have to do this again and soon!" they waved to one another as the coach sped off.

"Come along Annabelle, Mr. Archibald will be here shortly for your lessons. You'll be reviewing your French lessons today." Annabelle turned to Mrs. Long and shook her head.

"No he wont, I sent a letter to him yesterday and informed him that his lessons won't be required for awhile," Annabelle said as she walked back inside. Mrs. Long followed her up to her room and shut the door behind her. Annabelle was busy studying herself in the mirror making sure the wrinkles in her dress were smooth. It was a white flowing dress with sapphire short sleeves, a sash tied around her waist and strips of sapphire fabric split seemed into the train.

"Annabelle," Mrs. Long said calling her attention. "I demand to know what has gotten into you lately. You're acting like a felon! Dismissing your polishing lessons, acting as though you had no duty to yourself and your station it's appalling!" Annabelle turned to Mrs. Long and a soft smile spread across her face.

"I'm happy, Mrs. Long. For the first time in my life, I'm actually happy. Perhaps I am being too lax in my lessons, but I see no reason to attend them today when I've received a better offer on how to spend my time."

"Oh, really? And how might you be spending your time for the day." Annabelle grabbed her coin purse and wrapped the ribbon around her wrist.

"I'm being shown Brooklyn by a true Brooklyn resident. It's such a lovely city, isn't it?" Mrs. Long bustled after Annabelle as she hurried from the room and down the stairs.

"What do you mean? Who is showing you the city? Annabelle Danvers, I demand to know who is escorting you for the day!" Mr. Long was already waiting outside for Annabelle and he helped her into the coach.

"Do you remember the Newsie who escorted me home after the debacle the evening of my engagement party?" Mrs. Long blanched and Annabelle took that as a sign she did, in fact, remember. "He and I have become fast friends these last few days and I will undoubtedly be spending more of my time with him. Drive on, please, Mr. Long, I'd hate to keep anyone waiting." Before Mrs. Long could protest, the coach was speeding off toward Brooklyn.

X

Annabelle was more than surprised when the coach stopped in front of a tall wooden building with age worn planks and dirty windows. She could barely make out the sign on the structure. 'Newsboys Lodging House'. Mr. Long helped Annabelle from the coach and Annabelle had to step over a pothole before she could get to the door.

"Would you like me to wait for you?" Annabelle fidgeted for a moment, but she shook her head. "Are you sure Miss Danvers?"

"I'll be alright, Mr. Long, thank you." He hesitated before climbing into the driver's seat. Annabelle turned her back to the coach as it drove away and she carefully walked up the stoop to the front door. She tried the bell, but it didn't work. She knocked…nothing. She knocked again…still nothing. As her hand moved toward the doorknob, it flew open and Annabelle jumped in shock. A middle-aged man with graying red hair hidden under a bowler cap and a shaggy ill kempt beard stood in front of her. His white shirt was well worn and faded. His black suspenders were fraying and the cuffs of his sleeves were rolled around his elbows.

"Hello there," he said warmly as he removed his cap and tried to flatten his disheveled hair. "What can I do for you?"

"I was looking for Spot? Is he here?" The man chuckled and stepped aside allowing her to enter. The inside was even shabbier than the outside. Bits of crumpled newspaper and empty soda and alcohol bottles littered corners of the floor. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling like ornaments and Annabelle was sure there wasn't a broom to be found in the Lodging House.

"All the Newsies, are out sellin, but ya welcome to stay until they get back," the older gentleman said. Annabelle turned to him with a furrowed brow.

"Spot said he would be here this morning to meet me, are you sure he left for the day?" the man scratched the back of his neck and shrugged.

"I was almost sure I saw him leave this mornin, but if he said he'd be here he'll be here. Spot never says nothin that he don't mean. Maybe he got up early ta sell the mornin addition." Annabelle nodded and surveyed the lobby some more. _Maybe he forgot_… "Not to sound nosy or nothin, but what's a classy gal like you got ta do with Spot?"

"We're friends," Annabelle answered quickly. The man smiled and let out a small chuckle at the defensiveness in her voice.

"Alright, meant no offense. I'm George Hamlin, the caretaker of the Lodging House," he introduced. Annabelle took his outstretched hand and smiled.

"Annabelle Danvers, lovely to meet you Mr. Hamlin." Mr. Hamlin chuckled again and released her hand.

"You're welcome to wait upstairs for Spot if you'd like," Mr. Hamlin offered. Annabelle smiled her appreciation and slowly made her way up the stairs. They creaked as she walked and one of the stairs had a hole in it that she had to carefully hop over.

There was a small hallway at the top of the stairs and on the far wall was a large window leading to the fire escape. The first door on the left was hanging off its hinges and proved to be an empty closet. There was only one door left on the right side and it was a large bunkroom. At least two dozen bunk beds were lined up two feet apart form the other.

The room smelled like must and dirty laundry. The beds were unkempt and the mattresses looked to be molding. There was no one in there and no other way out so Annabelle walked across the hall to another bunkroom. It looked the same, but the smell was better as a window to her right was open and fresh air poured in. Annabelle walked farther in to see around the first bunk bed.

This room was somewhat larger than the other room, but it looked as though not all the beds were occupied because only fifteen or so of them actually had bedding on them. Annabelle heard shuffling in the adjoining washroom and she felt her stomach sink in fear. _What if it isn't Spot?_ She asked herself.

Before she could put anymore thought into that, she felt her stomach fluttering for another reason. Spot emerged from the washroom with dripping wet hair he was trying to towel dry wearing only his pants and socks. He moved to a trunk and grabbed a pair of brown shoes before walking back into the washroom, not even noticing Annabelle standing at the other end of the room.

Annabelle opened her mouth to call after him but no sound came out. Her feet carried her toward the washroom and as she came to the doorway she saw Spot standing in front of a mirror brushing his teeth. Her eyes trailed a droplet of water as it fell from his bangs onto his neck. It ran down his chest over his abdomen and soaked into his pant line.

Annabelle felt her face flush and the temperature of the room increase by several degrees. As Spot rinsed his toothbrush out he turned to grab the towel off the rack and his eyes glazed over as he saw Annabelle standing in the doorway. Her face turned a brighter shade of red and she adverted her eyes from his.

"I- um…sorry, Mr…Mr. Hamlin said no one was up here, sorry." She moved to leave the doorway, but Spot's arrogant laughter stopped her in her tracks. She looked back up and saw Spot walking toward her.

"No biggie, ya just startled me is all," he said and walked past her. Annabelle prayed he didn't feel the heat radiating off her abashed form. Spot moved over to the bed he had previously been to and sat on it as he laced up his shoes. "When did ya get here?"

"A-a few minutes ago, was I too early?" she asked as she felt her eyes roaming again. Spot had a long scar running from the front of his left shoulder to the back of his shoulder blade.

"Nah, just earlier than I expected. Ya must a been pretty eager ta get here," he said with a laugh. The scar looked jagged toward the center and it changed shape as the muscles in his shoulder contracted and released with his movements.

"Where did you get that scar?" Annabelle asked before she could stop herself. Spot looked up at her then at the scar on his shoulder. He grinned, but his eyes remained serious.

"Got thrown through a window," Spot said nonchalantly. He stood and made his way over to his trunk again. Annabelle walked over toward his bed and Spot rummaged through his trunk next to her.

"It looks horrible," she said as she studied it more closely. Spot stood up, a red and white checkered shirt in his hand. He threw it over his shoulder, covering the scar, and began buckling his suspenders on.

"Well it don't hurt no more," he teased. He stood upright next to his trunk and noticed Annabelle still starring at him, however not at his eyes. He placed a finger under her chin and brought her eyes up to his and he grinned as her cheeks turned bright pink. "Don't worry about it." He rested his hand on the bunk above her head and Annabelle backed as far against the post as she could. "What's the matta?" he asked with a big smile on his face. "Aint ya happy ta see me?"

"No, I mean yes, I mean…um…no it's not that. Yes I am happy to see you, I just didn't expect to see so much of you," Annabelle turned her face to the side and mentally kicked herself for her idiotic comment. Spot placed a hand on her cheek bringing her focus back to him. He caught her lower lip between his and snaked an arm around her waist. Annabelle just stood there, enjoying the sensation of being so close, but nervous and unsure of what to do. The thought that she and Spot were entirely alone in the room, him shirtless, plagued her mind. He slowly released her, keeping his arms firmly wrapped around her and chuckled as he noted the scarlet tint to her face. "I ever tell ya that ya kinda cute when ya flustered?"

"Yes," Annabelle snapped and grew increasingly frustrated with the smarmy smile on his face. "Oh, would you please put a shirt on!" Annabelle finally managed to groan. Spot tightened his hold on her, their bodies tightly pressed against one another's.

"Why? Am I makin ya nervous?" His only answer was an eye roll. He laughed and finally let go of her. Her legs were unsteady and she ended up sitting down on his bed. Spot pulled on his checkered shirt, but left it unbuttoned while he continued to dry his hair.

"Do you have to sell papers today?" Annabelle asked when she had finally recovered her voice and some of her composure.

"Nah, already finished. Got up early and sold the mornin addition," he said as he folded the sleeves of his shirt around his elbows. He sat on the bed next to Annabelle and began lacing his shoes up.

"Is that where the other Newsies are, out selling the morning addition??" Annabelle inquired. It was a rather ridiculous question, but she feared an uncomfortable silence more than a stupid question.

"Some of them, other's are gettin ready ta sell the afternoon addition." Annabelle nodded and watched as Spot pulled his key necklace off a nail in the wall and hung it around his neck.

"Are you selling the afternoon addition?" Spot stood and began buttoning his shirt up. He chuckled to himself.

"No, I'm showing you around Brooklyn till me boys get done sellin, remember?" he asked as though he were talking to a child. Annabelle nodded again and bit her lower lip as she sat there awkwardly. Spot pulled his suspenders on and grabbed his hat. "Ready?" he asked. Annabelle stood with a smile and Spot took her hand before leading her downstairs.

X

"So I invited some a'the Manhattan boys over for poker night tomorrow, you in?" Spot asked as he and Annabelle walked along the boardwalk. They'd just come from eating lunch at a diner in the area and Spot told her that the boys should be done selling soon.

"That would be lovely," Annabelle said her fingers laced with his. "Sarah tells me the Newsies from Manhattan and Brooklyn have become close over the last year."

"Ya, she's right. I guess after the strike, me an Jacky got on more friendly terms than before. He may be a chump at times, but he really knows how ta watch a guys back," Spot answered. They stopped and turned down a pier with several crates piled high. Based on the amount of clutter, Annabelle assumed it was the Brooklyn Newsies' usual dock.

"So do you from what I hear," Annabelle replied. Spot helped her sit on one of the crates and he leaned against it. "Sarah told me what happened at the rally, with Jack." Spot ran a hand through his hair. "It was brave of you."

"Ya, nothin that he wouldn't a done for me. Besides, I owed him one." Annabelle furrowed her brow and Spot looked as though he'd just said something he shouldn't have.

"What do you mean?" Annabelle asked. Spot turned his back to her and ran a hand over his face. "Spot?" Annabelle asked and jumped off the crate.

"Nothin," he said as he turned around to face her again. "It don't matta, come on let's go get a soda or somthin. I'm thirsty, aint ya thirsty?"

"No, Spot I'm not thirsty. You have that look on your face," she said taking hold of his hand as he tried to walk past her. "You always get that look on your face when you're hiding something."

"It aint no big deal," he said trying to shrug it off. "Ya wouldn't want ta hear about it anyway." Annabelle crossed her arms over her chest and it was Spot who had difficulty holding her gaze. "Don't look at me like that, ya know I don't like it."

"If it isn't a big deal Spot, then what's the difficulty in telling me what happened?" Spot tried to think of an argue, but she was right. He opened his mouth to protest, but the worst possible rebuttal came out.

"Well it's about anotha girl so you definitely aint ganna want ta hear it." Spot wanted to kick himself. Annabelle dropped her eye and let out a shaky breath. "No, it aint like that, I mean it is, but it aint a big deal now." Annabelle nodded, but looked unconvinced. Spot placed his hand on her sides and pulled her back toward him. "Alright, I'll tell ya about it, but ya can't say I didn't warn ya ok?"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want," Annabelle said. Spot chuckled. She had said it, but by no means did she mean it. She wanted to know, but she only wanted to know because she didn't know what she was asking.

"Back when the Newsies was strikin, I got tangled up with this gal. She was kind of a richie like you, only probably not as wealthy as your family is. I'd known her for a couple a' months. I aint ganna lie to ya Annabelle, I had it for her real bad. She'd walk by Carroll Park every day around noon. One day I finally summed up the courage ta talk ta her, and it was all down hill from there. She and went at it for about three months. Well, about the time the strike hit Jack comes and tells me that he's seen my girl messin around with another guy. When I asked her about it she told me the guy was her fiancé. I wanted ta break it off with her, but I couldn't. Then, about a week later she tells me that her fiancé is movin ta Boston and he's takin her with him. That was the last time I saw her." Annabelle saw how distant Spot's eyes had gotten and how his face had turned pale.

"You loved her, didn't you?" Spot's only reply was his silence. "That first day, in the park, when I asked you what it was like to be in love…you knew because of her." It wasn't a question, it was a realization. Annabelle felt stupid for not realizing that's how he'd known. Annabelle felt her breathing begin to become painful so she turned her back on Spot to try to rid her eyes of the oncoming tears.

"I know ya probably sore at me, but I've never lied to ya Annabelle. Ya asked what happened and I told ya," Spot said with a slight edge of defensiveness.

"I'm not angry with you Spot," Annabelle said as she turned back to face him. "I'm angry at that girl, for hurting you. For breaking your heart. I'm angry because…I don't like thinking of you with another girl. I'm mad at myself because I'm happy she's gone, because if she was still here then I wouldn't have you." Spot smiled and pulled Annabelle into his arms.

"Don't be mad at yaself, Annabelle. You aint the only one who's glad she's gone now," he said before kissing her forehead. "I like that you hate picturin me with other girls. Now ya know how I feel when I picture you with ya fiancé." Annabelle winced. She realized how painful this situation must be for Spot.

"Spot," she said pulling back to look him in the eye. She placed a hand on his cheek and gave him a light kiss. "I could never compare you to James. He has no place in my heart and you do…in fact, Spot…um I wanted to tell you that I think…I mean, I know that I'm in lo…"

"Heya Spot where ya been all day!" someone called. The couple turned and saw four boys walking down the pier toward them.

"Looks like me boys are done sellin," Spot said looking down at Annabelle again. "What was it you was sayin?"

"Oh, nothing, I'll tell you later," Annabelle said pulling away from him and smoothing out the ruffles in her dress.

"Good," Spot whispered in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

**A/N '**Looks Like Love' Dean Martin


	10. In Every Heart

"Annabelle, this is Bones, Duke, Boxy, and you met Switch as Medda's," Spot introduced

**A/N** Annabelle's singing part will be in _italics_. Everyone should check out Seren McGowan's and love97's stories. They're pretty much amazing. And, I think, because I've posted three chapters in three days, you should all review. Lol, please and thank you :)

"Annabelle, this is Bones, Duke, Boxy, and you met Switch at Medda's," Spot introduced. Bones was the tallest of the four. She guessed he was called 'Bones' because of his lanky and gaunt appearance. His bright blue eyes were wide and his brown hair was disheveled. Duke was a rather attractive boy with curly brown hair and olive colored skin. Boxy was a stout boy with watery brown eyes and reddish brown hair. "Boys this is Annabelle, be nice," he ordered. Spot kept his arms firmly wrapped around Annabelle and she struggled to shake hands with the boys while not being able to move.

"Ah, so _this_ is Annabelle," Duke said with a smile. "Switchy told us he knew ya the night at Medda's, but I didn't believe him. Ya play the piano real good."

"And _you_ talk like an idiot," Boxy said smacking him on the back of the head. "How's it goin Annabelle, ya likin Brooklyn so far?"

"Yes, it's a lovely part of the city," she said with a smile. The boys laughed as though she'd told a joke and Annabelle smiled despite her confusion.

"Heya Spot, we's ganna go swimin, ya in?" Bones asked as he pulled his shirt off over his head. He didn't wait for an answer before jumping off the dock into the water. Annabelle flinched as cold water splashed on her.

"Ya, come on Spot!" Duke said as he followed his friend's example. "Come on in Annabelle!" Duke called from the water.

"Oh no thank you," Annabelle said with a laugh. "I'm not much of a swimmer." Spot finally released her as he went to meet the next group of Newsboys that were approaching.

X

An hour later the dock was alive with Newsies. Annabelle was sitting on a crate watching Switch play a Newsie named Patch a game of marbles. They had a chalk circle drawn on the planks of wood while the two took turns flicking marbles at the center point.

Boxy was sitting next to Annabelle and he provided a good source of entertainment with all of his anecdotes about the Newsies. A group of Newsies cheered as Switch hit one of Patch's marbles out of the circle.

"Hey, you cheated!" Patch yelled as he stood up. "You used a steely! I saw ya switch marbles!" Switch stood up and Patch shoved him.

"I didn't cheat and ya know it, ya just a bad loser!" he yelled as he pushed him back. Patch stuck Switch in the face and Switch punched him back. Soon both boys were rolling on the docks trying to gain the upper hand on the other.

"Shouldn't someone stop them!" Annabelle nearly shrieked. Boxy just laughed and pointed down the pier where Spot was rapidly approaching.

"Hey, knock it off!" he called and grabbed both of the boys. While Patch was wildly swinging, he hit Spot in the jaw. A deathly silence fell over the dock. Spot slowly turned back to look at Patch, his expression unreadable.

"Spot, geeze, I didn't know it was you. It was an accident, honest!" Patch said quickly. Patch was by no means a scrawny boy, but under Spot's penetrating eyes, he looked like a child. He lifted his hand, and Patch flinched, but rested it on his shoulder instead.

"I know it was an accident," he said coolly. "Just like I'm sure it was an accident that ya started a fight on me pier without me permission. And I _know_ it was an accident that you was actin like an ass in front of our guest. So's I tell ya what, we aint ganna have any more accidents are we?" Patch shook his head. "Good." Spot gave Patch's shoulder a rough push and the boy fell fully clothed into the water. "No hard feelins then." Everyone cheered and laughed as Patch resurfaced. Spot brushed his hands off as though they were dirty and hopped onto the crate next to Annabelle.

"Are you ok?" Annabelle asked as she looked over at Spot. He grinned and she placed her hand on his cheek where he had been hit. "Does it hurt?"

"Well if ya ganna poke it, ya," he teased. He caught her hand as she quickly removed it and he pressed his lips to her knuckles. She smiled fondly at him and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Aint you a pretty pair," one of the female Newsies said as she approached, two of her friends following behind her. Annabelle had only been introduced to one of the female Newsies, Jade, Switch's girlfriend. The truth was, Annabelle was incredibly intimidated by them. She was used to dealing with girls who were docile, quiet, and meek. These girls were tough, rugged, and some looked to be stronger than the boys.

"How's it goin Roxie," Spot asked, but Annabelle could feel him tense. "Ya had a good day sellin?"

"Coulda been better," Roxie asked. Her ebony hair contrasted with her cream colored button down shirt and brown skirt that stopped above her ankles. Her sleeves were rolled up and her hands were covered in ink. The two girls wore similar skirts, but the blonde girl had a red shirt on and the brunette had a blue shirt. "Who's the dame?"

"Annabelle," he said shortly. "She's visitin for the day." Annabelle stuck her hand out in a friendly manner and the girl, Roxie, only chuckled so Annabelle slowly pulled her hand back.

"No offense, Doll, but I'd hate ta get ya perfectly clean hands all dirty," Roxie chirped. Annabelle made to comment that she didn't mind, but the resounding laughter form the other girl Newsies made Annabelle realize she was being mocked. "How ya likin downtown life, huh? Good attraction for ya, Richie?"

"Knock it off, Roxie," Spot said threateningly. Roxie only held her hands up as a sign of defense. The two girls behind Roxie exchanged glances.

"Aint lookin ta cause trouble with ya, Conlon," Roxie said, her eyes more than lingering on Spot. "Guess I don't like bein looked at an attraction. These Richie's aint got no respect. They lookin at us like some animal at the zoo." Annabelle felt a bubble of anger begin to rise in her. She began to feel…protective? "Careful down here Richie, I'd hate for you ta ruin ya dress." The Newsies who had stopped to listen, which was most of them, chuckled and Spot made to say something, but Annabelle cut him off.

"You know, if you don't want to be treated like an animal, I suggest you stop acting like a jackass." Silence fell. Roxie turned to glare at Annabelle, but as she did the dock erupted into laughter. Even Spot began laughing, if not the loudest of the group.

"What did ya say to me?" Roxie asked and moved toward Annabelle threateningly. Duke put his hand on Roxie's shoulder to stop her as everyone continued to laugh. She shrugged Duke's hand off and glared at Annabelle. "I'm outta here, lemme know when the Scum gets cleaned off the pier," Roxie snapped and sauntered off the docks, her two cronies following closely.

"I think I'm startin to corrupt you," Spot said quietly to Annabelle. She couldn't help the smile of pride she had on her face and she laughed.

"I think you are, too," she agreed and Spot kissed her quickly before they went back to watching the game of marbles progressing.

X

It was getting close to dinner time when the Newsies began to walk back to the Lodging house.

"Ya comin with us Annabelle?" Jinx, one of the younger Newsies asked as he hopped off of the crate next to hers. Annabelle looked at Spot over her shoulder and he shrugged.

"Sure, I'd love to walk back with you," she answered as Spot helped her down. Spot made to grab her hand, but Jinx grabbed it first and began pulling her down the pier.

"You comin Spot?" Jinx asked as he stopped halfway down. Spot, who had a somewhat disgruntled look on his face, just shook his head and laughed to himself.

"So how did you become a Newsie?" Annabelle asked Jinx as the three of them walked down the street. Spot had his arm wrapped around Annabelle's waist and Jinx was running ahead of them. He jumped on a bench, ran down the length of it, then hopped down the other side.

"After my mum died, I went to live in the Boarding house as a Newsie," Jinx answered. Annabelle was surprised by his answer. She wasn't prepared for the sad story he told.

"How tragic, don't you have any aunts or uncles to take care of you?" Annabelle asked as Jinx jumped off another bench.

"Nah, none of them wanted me, but it's ok. I get to be a Newsie and that's the best job in the whole world!" he said excitedly and ran ahead to jump onto the next bench.

"That's so horrible," Annabelle said to Spot who had remained quiet for most of the walk. "The worst part is he seems so happy."

"Would you rather see him a blubberin mess? No, Jinx isn't like that, he's a tough kid. He stands on his own two feet now. He don't need no one to take care of him," Spot said with a hint of pride in his voice.

"But…everyone wants a home eventually," Annabelle responded. "I mean, don't you want a home?" Spot looked down at Annabelle and stopped walking. He turned to face her, his face stern.

"I may not come from the kinda place you do Annabelle, but I got just as much of a home with me boys in the Lodging House that you do with your nanny." Annabelle opened her mouth to apologize, but Spot spoke first. "I know ya don't mean no harm, but lookin at us with pity don't mean ya better than us." His voice wasn't mean, it wasn't even cold. That was the worst of it. Annabelle realized that even in her attempts to befriend Spot's friends, she'd still looked at them as though they were to be pitied, when in fact she could learn a lot from the Newsies. Look at what Spot had taught her… Family isn't in the blood, it's in the heart and who you allow in.

"Are you two slow pokes comin?" Jinx called from the block ahead of them. Spot pulled her back into his embrace before leading them onward toward the Lodging House.

X

Back at the Lodging House everyone was downstairs in the sort of living/dining area. All it had were three torn up couches, a loveseat, a long dining table with fifteen or so chairs, a piano, and a bookshelf that had empty bottles and old newspapers on it.

"Where did you get this furniture?" Annabelle asked with a laugh. Since Spot's "talk" she felt much more at ease around everyone. If she didn't focus on stature, it seemed none of the others did either.

"Well it's the government's job to provide us with accommodations, ya see? Like an orphanage gets beds and living furniture, so do lodging houses for the Newsies. As long as we pay rent, they're supposed ta give us furniture," Switch answered as he sat next to her on the couch. Annabelle was sitting in the corner of the couch with Spot next to her on the arm rest.

"Ya, but they seemed to have fallen behind in there renewin the furniture for about….ten years," Jade chuckled as she sat on Switch's lap.

"Have any of you written to the governor informing him of the error?" she inquired and they shook their heads 'no'. "Well, what about Mr. Hamlin, surely he has tried to rectify the problem." Again, they all responded 'no'.

"Aint no big deal, really, we got all we need," Spot responded. Annabelle felt her heart convulsing. Their living accommodations were so poor and yet they seemed content. She had sympathy for them, and at the same time she respected them for their fortitude.

"How bout a game a cards?" Duke asked as he pulled a round coffee table over. He began shuffling the cards and two Newsies, Trick and Snitch, pulled chairs up. Duke dealt Annabelle in and she picked up the stack of five cards. She showed them to Spot who pointed at one to discard.

They ended up playing for fun, which Annabelle preferred. Everyone opted to save their money as Manhattan would be coming over the next night and no one wanted to bust two nights in a row.

Annabelle, or rather Spot, was winning by a quite a bit six hands later. Annabelle felt her eyes growing heavy and she leaned her head on Spot's shoulder.

"Ready to go?" he asked in a quiet voice. Everyone around them seemed to be wide awake, but Annabelle felt she could barely keep her eyes open in the warm room and snuggled up to Spot. She nodded and laid her cards down.

"Ah come on! I was just catchin up!" Trick complained and tossed her cards down. "We're ganna have ta play again tomorrow night. Gimme a chance to win my dignity back." Annabelle laughed and stood up with Spot.

"It's a deal," she said extending her hand. Trick spat on her hand and extended it. Annabelle looked disgusted and the nearby Newsies watched her expectantly. Annabelle chanced a look at Spot who had a bemused smirk on his face. Reluctantly, she pathetically let her spit fall onto her hand before clasping hands with Trick. The nearby Newsies cheered and clapped Annabelle on the back and she couldn't help but laugh as she discreetly wiped her hand on the skirt of her dress.

"Alright, alright, I want you all in bed by the time I get back!" Spot ordered as he ushered Annabelle outside. "I'm proud a' you Annabelle," Spot said wrapping his arm around her waist.

"Ya? Because I swore and spat in one day?" she asked with a laugh. Spot only chuckled and kissed her on the cheek.

X

They walked hand in hand along the quieting streets of Brooklyn talking as though they'd known one another for a lifetime. Annabelle felt relaxed around Spot. She could do or say whatever she pleased and he would just smile down at her, his eyes glittering with affection.

"It was lovely having Sarah over for the evening. We stayed up all night just talking. I've never had a friend I felt I could do that with. She's such a sweet girl. I hope we can be great friends," Annabelle said as she walked backward holding both of Spot's hands. He grinned and pulled her toward him. They kept their hands joined, but one of Spot's arms was wrapped behind her.

"Ya? I'm happy ta hear that. So what did you an Sarah talk about all night?" he inquired. Annabelle shrugged, but Spot didn't let it drop. "Oh come on, ya said you stayed up all night talkin, ya must a talked about something."

"Well," Annabelle said as she pretended to think about it for a moment. "Sarah talked a lot about Jack." Spot grinned and gave her look that asked what she talked about. "And I talked about…" Annabelle took a step away, her back now toward him. "Racetrack, he's a rather handsome fellow." Spot's jaw dropped and Annabelle looked at him over her shoulder. As he saw her barely containing her laughter, it dawned on him.

"Oh, that's it!" he said as he grabbed for her. Annabelle shrieked and ran down the sidewalk. Spot gave her a five second head start before running after her. They darted past people, Spot really only jogging, and Annabelle trying her best not to trip on her heavy skirt. As they neared the bridge, Spot finally reached her. He caught her around the waist spinning her in a circle before pulling her into him. They were both breathless and laughing. "Who were ya talkin about?" Spot asked and when Annabelle only laughed her tickled her sides.

"Stop, stop!" Annabelle begged as she squirmed and tried to escape his hold. "Alright, alright I was talking about _you_," she panted out. Spot stopped tickling her but didn't release her entirely. "Happy now?" she asked looking up at him. He smiled and nodded.

"You bet," he said and leaned down to kiss her. Annabelle felt the familiar flip of her stomach and her breath catch in her throat. He stopped as his lips barely grazed hers. Annabelle's eyes fluttered open as he wasn't moving. He grinned, took her hand, and pulled her along the sidewalk. "Come on, it's gettin dark." Annabelle let out a shaky breath and rolled her eyes.

As they rounded the corner Annabelle stopped and Spot turned to look at her. Annabelle's eyes had grown dark.

"What is it?" he asked and Annabelle seemed to snap from her thoughts. She shook her head and put on a smile.

"Nothing, come on," she said and continued walking. Spot hesitated before following her. As soon as he stepped to her side she held onto his arm and he smiled down at her.

Annabelle did her best to keep her eyes focused straight ahead of her, but as she was closest to the railing, it was difficult for her eyes not to wander to the water below. As they reached the center of the bridge, Spot stopped.

"Why are we stopping?" Annabelle asked quickly. Spot turned to her and smiled. "Can we keep going, please, I don't want to stop."

"Don't ya want ta watch the view? The sun is settin on the water, it's nice," he said as he walked to the railing, but Annabelle refused to let go of his arm. "What's wrong?"

"I don't like the bridge, it brings back bad memories, now can we please just go?" Her grip on his arm had tightened since they had stopped. Spot turned to look at Annabelle and slowly removed her hands from his arm.

"Well, that aint ganna work. You live in Manhattan and I live in Brooklyn. If ya ever ganna come and see me, then ya ganna have ta cross the bridge," he said matter-of-factly. "Come here," he said extending his hand to her. Annabelle shook her head no, her eyes brimming with tears. "Trust me," he said in a gentle tone Annabelle took his hand and he led her to the railing. He guided her hands to the railing and helped her step onto the bar a few inches from the ground while he kept his hands on her waist.

"Spot?" she asked with a quivering voice. He stepped onto the railing behind her, his chest pressed against her back. He placed his hands over hers and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"See," he whispered as they looked out at the sunset. "No more bad memories a' the bridge," Annabelle smiled, a tear rolling down her cheek. The sunset was breathtaking. The cloudy horizon was splashed with every shade of orange, pink, and purple imaginable. A thin line of red outlined the horizon as the sun disappeared. "What was it you were tellin me on the bridge earlier?" he asked as the memory came back to him.

"Oh," Annabelle said self-consciously, "It was nothing, forget about it." Spot tightened his hold on her and she turned to look at him.

"That aint true, come on, ya can tell me," he whispered. He was afraid it was about what he had told her. Maybe she was angry…maybe she didn't want to see him anymore. Annabelle dropped her gaze and looked back out at the water. "I see…"

"No…it's not that," Annabelle said sensing what he was assuming. "It's just…_ In every heart there is a room: a sanctuary safe and strong to heal the wounds from lovers past, until a new one comes along. I spoke to you in cautious tones; you answered me with no pretense. And still I feel I said too much, my silence is my self defense. _

"_And every time I've held a rose, it seems I only felt the thorns, and so it goes, and so it goes, and I'm afraid you will too, I suppose._

"_But if my silence made you leave, then that would be my worst mistake. So I will share this room with you, and you can have this heart to break._" Spot held a hand to her face to bring her eyes to his, but her eyes were tightly shut. "_And this is why my eyes are closed, it's just as well for all our seen, and so it goes, and so it goes, and you're the only one that knows. _

"_So I would choose to be with you, and if the choice were mine to make. But you can make decisions too. And you can have this heart to break. And so it goes, and so it goes. And you're the only one who knows._" With no words seeming to fit the occasion, Spot captured her lips in a passionate kiss. His hands trailed from her shoulders down her bare arms sending a wave of shivers through her body. He guided her right hand around his neck as her left hand held onto the arm tightly wrapped around her waist.

They parted only for air and Spot grinned as he kissed her again. Annabelle ran her hands through his hair, her mind going completely blank, lost entirely in the sensation of feeling her heart swelling almost painfully.

Spot felt as though he couldn't help himself. His normal amount of self-control exhibited with Annabelle was almost forgotten. He hadn't expected her words to impact him so much, but as much as he hated to admit it, he knew he was taken with her. Completely. Wholeheartedly. No argument offered.

X

Several passionate kisses and an hour later they were finally at Annabelle's door. Annabelle didn't even have time to say goodbye before Spot was pulling her in for another kiss. She laughed against his lips as his fingers tangled into her hair. She wrapped her arms around his form and he pulled away, keeping their foreheads pressed together, as he walked her backward up the steps. Her back hit the door and she laughed again as his lips trailed from her mouth along her jaw and to her neck.

"Spot," Annabelle said and feebly attempted to push him off. "It's late," she reprimanded. Spot murmured something against her skin, but Annabelle couldn't distinguish it. "What?" she asked, unable to keep the laughter from her voice.

"So?" he repeated before stealing another kiss. They would have continued that way, had the door not flown open. Annabelle stumbled backward before she was pulled from Spot's arms.

"Goodnight, young man!" Mrs. Long scolded. Annabelle blanched and Spot looked aggravated. The door slammed in his face and Mrs. Long grabbed Annabelle's hand. "What are you doing? You're engaged to another man!" Mrs. Long shrieked.

"You're right, I am," she said back coolly. Mrs. Long looked as though she had been slapped. "I'll be in my room _thinking_ about what I've done." Annabelle made it halfway up the stairs. "I thought about it," she said turning back to Mrs. Long. "I don't care. Spot makes me happy. I love him." That was all Annabelle had to say before bounding up the stairs and straight into her room.

By the time she had shut the door, ran to the window, pulled the curtains back, and opened it, Spot was already at the top of the fire escape. He quietly slipped inside and Annabelle laughed as he pulled her into him.

"Did you see her face?" she asked in a strained whisper. "I thought she was going to murder you on the stoop." Spot grinned and ran his hands through her hair. "Come to lunch tomorrow, and then we'll head over to Brooklyn for poker night." Annabelle could barely believe the words coming out of her mouth.

"Ya, I'm sure that I'll be more than welcome here," Spot said sarcastically. Annabelle placed her hands on his chest and her fingers trailed over the key necklace he was wearing.

"Please come? I'll handle Mrs. Long," she pleaded. Spot still looked hesitant. "Come on Spot, you showed me your world, now let me show you mine." That and a teasing kiss to the chin had him convinced.

"Ya, I'm definitely a bad influence on you," he said and Annabelle beamed. He brushed the hair from her eyes and kissed her. "I better go, or I might need to start picking out headstones." Annabelle walked him to the window and before he slipped out he pulled the key from around his neck and handed it to her. She stood on her tip toes and kissed him as he slipped out the window. He chuckled as he looked down at her from the fire escape. "Do ya always leave ya window open?"

"Only for you," she said with a smile, but meant it sincerely. He chuckled before slowly making his way back to Brooklyn. It may have been a long walk, but when you're walking on clouds, time doesn't exist.

**A/N** 'So It Goes' by Sarah Gazarek


	11. All I Need

**A/N** Closest thing I could find on the internet to Annabelle's dress was /titanic/showandtell/images/jennydeck.jpg. Only, her dress has short cuffed sleeves.

**Spot's singing is in Bold**

"Wake up, wake up girl!" Annabelle cracked open her eyes as she felt someone shaking her roughly. "Get up, now!" Mrs. Long snapped. Annabelle moaned and sat up.

"What is it?" Annabelle asked her mind still hazy from the deep slumber she had been in. She swung her legs out of bed as she tossed the heavy blankets aside.

"We need to talk," Mrs. Long snapped. Annabelle rubbed her eyes and walked to her vanity mirror. She sat down and prepared herself for the verbal bashing. "This…this foolishness needs to stop, at once. I won't have you gallivanting all over the city falling in with the wrong type…it's…it's not proper!"

"Don't you ever get tired of always having to do what's _proper_?" Annabelle asked as she turned around in her chair to look at Mrs. Long. "For once, don't you just want to do what _feels_ right?"

"Oh nonsense, you can't base your action on your emotions. If you do you'll end up with nothing! You'll be disgraced and shameful, Annabelle, I won't have it." Mrs. Long's voice was shrill and full of sharp emotion.

"Well then you can be happy that it's not _you_ that is making unorthodox decisions," Annabelle retorted.

"This is ridiculous. I won't have you fraternizing with that street filth. He is a soiled young man who expects only one thing from a lady. If you continue to socialize with him you'll become nothing but a street hooker. Shamed. Dishonorable. All these years of study and polishing will amount to nothing." Annabelle stood up and nearly knocked her chair over.

"I will not. I love Spot! All these years of _polishing_ and…and _refinement_ has done nothing but suffocate me in a world of forced manners and fake propriety. I've not been able to decide for myself how I want to live or dress or think or talk or even when I want to sit or stand. You've made every decision for me my entire life and because of that I wanted to die!"

"Stop being melodramatic Annabelle. If I'm guilty of anything it is caring too much about you growing up to be everything a young lady of stature should be," Mrs. Long defended.

"No, no, no! I'm _not_ being melodramatic," Annabelle said her temper flaring. "The night of the engagement party I ordered the cabby to stop and I ran away. I rant o the Brooklyn Bridge and almost threw myself off of it just to get away from this life! If it hadn't been for Spot I'd be dead right now. He saved me and I love him!" Mrs. Long held a hand to her chest, shock clearly written on her face. "And just because love is an unfathomable emotion to _you_ doesn't mean that I am incapable of finding it for myself!" Annabelle regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, but instead of apologizing, she just stared at Mrs. Long waiting for her reaction. Mrs. Long pursed her lips, tears in her eyes, and walked to the door. "Tell cook that we'll be having a guest for lunch." Mrs. Long went rigid, but didn't say anything before she left the room.

Annabelle sat back down and furiously ran a comb through her hair. She hadn't been aware that she even had a temper, and now that she did, she wished she didn't.

X

Annabelle sat at a desk in the study writing quickly. She signed her name at the bottom and folded it before slipping it inside an envelope and sealing it. She rang the bell and a moment later a maid entered the room.

"Did you need something ma'am?" the young maid asked as she curtsied. Annabelle scratched an address on the envelope and handed it to the maid.

"See that this is delivered express. Tell the messenger not to leave until he personally sees the letter answered." The maid took the letter and the few coins Annabelle handed her to ensure the express was paid for and curtsied before leaving the room. There was a knock on the front door and Annabelle ran into the hall. "I'll answer it," she said to the maid who was about to open the door.

Annabelle stopped by the hall mirror to quickly check her appearance. The white and yellow dress was one of her favorites. It had a v-neck collar with white lace accenting the short sleeves. It had an empire waist with a yellow sash tied around her waist and a flowing yellow skirt that fell to her ankles. Her hair was piled on top of her hair and fastened with a pearl hair comb. The most important part of her wardrobe, in Annabelle's opinion, was the key that hung delicately from her neck. She smiled as she saw it and trailed a finger along the cold steel.

After another persistent knock on the door Annabelle quickly brushed her bangs out of her eyes and opened the door. Her face lit up as she saw Spot standing there. He returned the smile and she stepped aside to let him in.

"Wow, ya look…" Spot said as he struggled to tear his eyes off of her. Annabelle smiled and gave him a quick kiss. Spot was looking around almost nervously as he held his hat in his hands.

"Come on, I'll give you the tour," Annabelle said and took Spot's hand in hers. He visibly relaxed as she hung his hat up for him in the hall closet.

They started downstairs with the study, the drawing room, the parlor, the kitchen and the dining room. Next they went upstairs and Annabelle showed him the guest room, where Mrs. Long's room was down the hall.

"Lunch should be soon," Annabelle said as she began heading back downstairs, but Spot stopped her by pulling on her hand.

"Ya haven't shown me ya room yet," he observed. Annabelle felt slightly self conscious about showing him her room.

"Well…you've already seen it so I thought it would be pointless. Come on, let's go check on lunch, I'm starving." Spot didn't pay attention to her reluctance and instead led her back down the hall to the only door she hadn't opened. He turned the knob and opened the door, walking in without hesitation. Annabelle stayed in the doorway as he walked around.

"Looks different during the day," Spot commented with a chuckle. He walked over to her vanity mirror and looked at the small bottles of perfume, hair combs, and brushes that were neatly arranged. "Smells like you," he thought aloud. Annabelle smiled as she leaned against the doorframe. Spot stood out in her room. It was unusual looking at the combination of two worlds. He looked around and touched things with careful hands and observant eyes. "I like it," he said as he turned back to look at her.

"Good," she said with a smile. Spot walked back over to her and placed his hands on her waist. He pulled her closer and kissed her. She laughed against his lips and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Ready for lunch?" she asked as she pulled away.

"No," he said with a grin and kissed her again. "Maybe in a few minutes," he murmured and backed her against the wall.

"Spot!" Annabelle said with a giggle. As much as she knew she should push him away, there was something about the way he held onto her that made her never want him to let go.

"Oh, excuse me." Annabelle jumped as a maid entered the room. Annabelle pushed Spot away as though he burned her and she brushed the wrinkles out of her dress. The maid curtsied, her cheeks burning red, and hurried from the room. Annabelle could help but laugh and Spot chuckled as well.

"Come on," she said taking his hand and leading him from the room.

X

Annabelle and Spot had finished lunch and were enjoying a cup of tea in the drawing room.

"How much trouble were you in last night," Spot asked his arm around the back of the couch behind Annabelle.

"I've never seen Mrs. Long so angry," Annabelle answered honestly. "She yelled at me again this morning." Spot gave her a guilty look and Annabelle just smiled in return. "I don't care what she thinks. It's my life and I'll do what I want with it."

"Still, I don't wanna cause any problems with ya family or nothing," Spot said as he curled a lock of her hair around his finger.

"You aren't causing any problems; Mrs. Long's ignorance is the problem. I'm sure as soon as she gets to know you she'll realize how amazing you are." Spot grinned and looked almost embarrassed as he leaned in to kiss her. They parted quickly, however, as the door opened and Mrs. Long bustled in. She didn't say anything as she handed Annabelle a letter. As Annabelle opened it, Mrs. Long scowled at Spot.

"Forgive me," Annabelle said as she set the letter aside. "Mrs. Long this is Spot  
Conlon, Spot this if Mrs. Long." Spot stood and extended his hand. Mrs. Long only glared before leaving the room.

"Ya, she seems real understanding," Spot said sarcastically. "Can we get goin now?" Annabelle didn't answer however; she was too busy perusing the letter she'd received. "Who's it from?" Spot inquired. He stood behind Annabelle and wrapped his arms around her as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

"No one," Annabelle said quickly as she crumpled the letter. "You're right, let's get going." Spot gave her a quizzical look, but shrugged it off. He'd only been able to see the state seal on the corner of the letter before she'd Z it from sight.

Mr. Long was waiting outside in the carriage for them. He smiled to the two of them and Spot helped Annabelle into the coach before climbing in himself.

"Brooklyn Lodging house please, Mr. Long," Annabelle said as she sat with her back to him. Spot sat across from her and lounged back in the cushioned seat.

"Yes Miss Danvers," Mr. Long said in a horse voice and had to cover his mouth as he coughed. The coach sped off quickly toward Brooklyn.

It was a very nice day out. The sun was shinning and though there were a few sparse clouds, it was still in the mid eighties. The streets were busy and Annabelle enjoyed watching people as they went about their business. She barely noticed as Spot moved to sit next to her as the coach drove onto the Bridge.

As they neared the center of the bridge, Annabelle hesitantly looked out over the side of the coach. Instead of the heart sinking fear, all she could think of was the memory of her and Spot the previous night. The way he held her. The adrenaline rush. The way he kissed her. It caused her heart to flutter in her chest.

Spot must have had the same thought because he wrapped his arm around her and kissed her on the temple. Annabelle smiled and leaned into his embrace.

X

The carriage stopped outside the Lodging house and Annabelle was helped out by Spot. Annabelle waved goodbye to Mr. Long and he smiled brightly before driving off.

Annabelle and Spot didn't enter the Lodging House, but instead walked past it toward the docks. As it was late afternoon, the pier was already alive with Newsies. Spot walked fearlessly, with Annabelle's hand in his, to the end of the pier. They walked past the many Newsies and those who recognized Annabelle smiled and greeted her.

Annabelle quickly looked away as she saw Roxie and her two friends standing on the far corner of the pier. Roxie was glaring daggers at Annabelle and she instinctively stepped closer to Spot. He chuckled and wrapped his arm around her as they reached his usual sitting place. She hopped onto one of the crates and he sat next to her.

"Heya Annabelle, ya up for that rematch tonight?" Trick said as she greeted her. Annabelle smiled as Trick sat on the crate next to the one she was on.

"A promise is a promise," Annabelle complied. "How has your day been so far?" Trick ran a hand through her dirty blonde hair, a bright smile on her face.

"It's been real good. Pushed a hundred papes today," Trick answered. Annabelle smiled, assuming that was a good thing. "How about you, had some good laughs today?"

"Sure," Annabelle said with a laugh. "What are they doing?" Annabelle asked and pointed to a group of Newsies that was clustering nearby.

"Ah the boys got this _ritual_," Trick said hopping off the crate. "They all gatta prove which a' them is the best shot." She removed a slingshot from her back pocket and wiggled it for emphasis. "But we all know," she said in a louder voice, drawing the attention of the gathered Newsies. "That girls shoot straighter than boys," she chuckled and Roxie and Trick high-fived one another. The boys booed and Duke shoved her shoulder.

"Ya so full of it, Trick, ya couldn't shoot a wall if it smacked ya in the face," he retorted. Trick took a swipe at him, but he dodged it with a laugh. It was then Annabelle saw at least a dozen bottles lined on a crate.

"Ten paces," Roxie challenged. She stood with her back to the crate with the bottles and took ten paces away from it. She turned, set a marble to the sling, pulled it back, and fire. The bottle farthest to the left shattered and several Newsies cheered.

"Fifteen paces!" Duke yelled over the cheers. He repeated the process fifteen paces away from the crate, and similarly, the farthest bottle to the left shattered. Annabelle couldn't help but applaud at the demonstration.

"That's nothin," Trick said and stepped a good five paces past where Duke had been. She kissed the marble before setting it to the sling. She fired and the bottle she was aiming at shattered. Annabelle applauded and met her high-five as Trick ran over to her.

"Do you shoot?" Annabelle asked turning to Spot. He gave her an incredulous look, hopped off the crate and Trick handed him her slingshot.

"Ya think that was shootin? Watch this," he said winking at Annabelle. "Duke, if ya'd be so kind." Spot was facing Annabelle and he pulled a marble from his pocket. He loosely set it in the sling and kept eye contact with Annabelle. Duke grabbed a bottle off the crate.

"Ready…fire in the hole!" Duke threw the bottle up in the air and Spot turned around quickly, released the marble, and the bottle shattered before it hit the water. The Newsies hollered and cheered as Spot handed Trick her slingshot back.

"That answer ya question?" Spot asked as he stood in front of Annabelle, his hands resting on her knees. She smiled and brushed the hair out of his face.

"Show off," she teased and gave him a quick kiss. Spot grinned and jumped back onto the crate next to her.

X

Later that evening the Newsies from Manhattan were seen walking down the pier toward them. Annabelle beamed as she saw Sarah, Jack, and David leading the crew.

"Oh I'm so glad to see you again. I had no idea you were coming," Annabelle said as the two girls hugged and exchanged bright smiles.

"Normally I wouldn't, but Jack told me that you would be here." Annabelle smiled to Jack and David who greeted her warmly. Spot joined Annabelle's side and wrapped and arm around her waist protectively.

"Spot! Spot!" The small group turned as a younger Newsie was sprinting down the pier toward them. "Spot!" he said again as he reached them. "Ya…gatta come… see… richie…boarding house… beds!"

"What the hell are ya muttering about?" Spot asked. The young Newsie took several deep breaths, coughed a few times, then composed himself.

"Some richie is at the Boardin House going through all our stuff and makin notes on some paper." Spot furrowed his brow, dropped his hand from Annabelle's side and walked past the group at an almost sprint toward the Boarding House.

"What do you suppose that's all about?" Sarah asked Annabelle. She shrugged her shoulders and the pier full of Newsies followed after Spot, but at a much slower pace.

X

As they stepped through the door, Annabelle saw Spot sitting on the stairs while he observed a strange man talking with Mr. Hamlin. He was a short man wearing a three piece suit and his hands looked as though he'd never worked a day in his life. His face was narrow and he wore spectacles.

"And how many orphans did you say you have lodging here on a regular basis," the man inquired. Mr. Hamlin looked as though he were mentally counting for a moment.

"I'd say fifteen or so," Mr. Hamlin answered. The strange man nodded and scribbled something on the clipboard in his hand. Mr. Hamlin attempted to read what the man was writing, but he clutched the clipboard to his chest.

"And how much do you charge for the Newsboys to stay here?" Annabelle sat next to Spot and the other Newsies poured around the two older men to watch the happenings.

"Ten cents a week," Mr. Hamlin scratched the back of his neck nervously, "but sometimes…when the headlines are bad I let the boys stay a few days with no rent." The strange man scribbled more on the clipboard and nodded his head.

"I think that will be all I need, Mr. Hamlin. Thank you for your cooperation." The man made to leave, but Spot stood up and blocked his path to the door.

"If ya don't mind me askin, sir, what's this all about? Ya come pokin around our house with no explanation seems kinda rude in my opinion," Spot said and his fellow Newsies muttered their agreements. The man looked around at the boys before returning his eyes to Spot's.

"My name is Hubert Miles; I'm the assistant secretary to Governor Roosevelt. Our office received an urgent telegram this morning regarding the inferior accommodations of the Newsboys Lodging House. After investigating this myself, I can see why the letter was so urgent. Seeing as how a Newsboys Lodging House is also considered an orphanage if said Lodging House holds seven or more orphans, it is a requirement of the state to see that the conditions of living are suitable."

"So, are ya sayin that ya ganna come in a fix up the Lodging House and we don't got ta do nothin?" Spot inquired. The man grinned and nodded.

"Yes, young man, that is what I am saying. You'll be hearing from our offices shortly. If any of you have any questions, please direct them to Mr. Hamlin who will be keeping in contact with me." Mr. Miles tipped his hat to them before he exited the building, climbed into his coach, and left.

"Well aint that a kick in the pants," Racetrack said as he removed his hat and ran his hands through his hair. "I bet ya they got another one a' them suits at the Manhattan Lodging House right now." Jack clapped Race on the back and smiled.

"My day just got a little better," Jack replied. A spirit of joy fell over the occupants of the Lodging House and soon everyone was in the small living area downstairs cracking open bottles of soda and alcohol. A card game started at the circular dining table.  
"Heya Annabelle, play something for us will ya?" Racetrack asked as he teasingly bumped her shoulder. Annabelle sat at the piano, dusted off the weathered keys, and struck up a lively tune (despite the nearly out of tune keys).

X

Annabelle laughed at Switch sat next to her pretending to plunk away at the keys. He had joined her near her fifth song and claimed he'd always wished he could play. As Annabelle played one of her favorite songs, Prelude in C sharp Minor, Switch was moving his fingers rapidly over the piano without actually hitting the keys.

"I'm making progress!" he said causing Annabelle to laugh again. "Hey Jade, look, I'm a professional pianist!" Jade walked over to Switch and hit him upside the head.

"You look like a professional idiot," she insulted and Switch grabbed her around the waist pulling her onto his lap. "Would ya nock it off? Stop it!" Jade screamed as he tickled her. As Annabelle finished, Spot came up behind her.

"Come with me?" he invited. She looked up him and though his face was serious his eyes still twinkled. Annabelle stood up and tapped Sarah on the shoulder.

"Take over for me?" she asked with a teasing tone. Sarah smiled and sat at the piano, playing a simpler, but still lovely song.

Spot lead Annabelle past several Newsies up the stairs and down the hall where the large window was open. He helped her up the fire escape and onto the roof. He sat on the edge and Annabelle stood in front of him, his hands on her hips.

"What did you want?" she asked. Spot didn't answer for a moment. His eyes scanned her entire face, soaking in ever detail. "Spot? What is it, you're starting to scare me."

"Did ya send the telegram ta the governor?" Annabelle blanched and swallowed the lump in her throat. She pulled away from Spot and turned her back on him.

"What makes you think that?" she asked as she turned around to face him again. He stood and wrapped his arms around her again.

"Tell me." His tone wasn't mean, but it was demanding. Annabelle sighed, her rigid posture now slacking. "Annabelle, tell me."

"Yes Spot, I sent the telegram." She hesitated a moment before looking up at Spot. She feared he was angry with her. However, his eyes held everything that wasn't anger. He pulled her into a deep kiss, one that nearly knocked her off her feet. He held her face with both of his hands as he released her.

"Never in me life have I met someone with a more beautiful heart than yours," he said locking his eyes with hers. "Ya did a good thing for my boys. Thank you." Annabelle placed her hands on his chest and shook her head.

"Don't thank me Spot; I didn't do it for the other Newsboys." His brow furrowed. "I did it for you…only for you, because…I want you to be happy. I did it because I…" He kissed her again, his embrace around her tightening.

"Ya don't have ta say anthin. I'm happier now then I've ever been in my entire life and it's all 'cause of you. Because bein with you makes me happy. Knowin you makes me happy. As long as I have you, I have all I'm ever ganna need.

"**Let the stars fade and fall and I won't care at all as long as I have you. Every kiss brings a thrill and I know that it will as long as I have you. Let's think of the future, forget the past. You're not my first love, but you're my last. Take the love that I bring then I'll have everything as long as I have you. Let's think of the future, forget the past. You're not my first love, but you're my last. Take the love that I bring then I'll have everything as long as I have you. As long, as long as I have you."**

She kissed him. It was all she could think to do. Her mind couldn't discover words to respond so she kissed him with passion, with vigor, with love.

**A/N** 'As Long As I Have You' by Elvis Presley


	12. Until You

Annabelle and Spot rejoined the party nearly thirty minutes later. The party was roaring and _spirits_ were high. Sarah was still playing the piano, a lively tune, and several of the more _festive_ Newsies were dancing around the room and were a source of great entertainment for the more sober of the group.

"Hey, there you two are!" Switch yelled. He was sitting at the round table playing cards with Racetrack, Jade, Trick, and Duke.

"You owe me a rematch!" Trick hollered to Annabelle. Spot led Annabelle to the table and slipped into the chair between Switch and Trick. Annabelle made to grab another chair when she felt arms wrap around her. Spot pulled her onto his lap and for a moment Annabelle looked at the group entirely embarrassed, but as no one seemed to see any impropriety in the act, she visibly relaxed.

"What's your poison?" Trick asked as she made to hand Annabelle and Spot a drink. One bottle was liquor and the other was soda. Annabelle took the soda and Spot to the alcohol. "Ah, you're a lightweight Belle," Trick teased.

"A what?" she inquired and everyone at the table laughed. Annabelle wasn't sure what she had missed, but even Spot seemed to be chuckling.

"Try some," he said and handed her the beer bottle. Annabelle chanced a glance around the table to see them waiting expectantly. She reluctantly took the bottle and sipped it. The taste was foul like rancid soda water with rotten apple juice. She coughed and everyone laughed again. "You ever had liquor before?" Spot asked.

"No, and I don't think I will again. It's disgusting," she answered as she wiped her mouth. Spot laughed and picked up the cards dealt to them.

"Only the first sip, the second one is better, I promise." Annabelle didn't really want to take another sip, but as she studied the other female Newsies they were all enjoying an alcoholic beverage. She felt horribly insignificant and prudish, so she complied. Spot was right, the second swig was better than the first and the third was even better than that.

X

Annabelle laughed as Trick finished telling a joke. Recently everything had seemed quite funny, including the four empty bottles that sat on the floor around her and Spot's chair.

"Help," Annabelle said with a pout as she leaned back against Spot's chest. She pathetically held her cards up and Spot chuckled and tightened his arm around her waist. He pointed to two cards and Annabelle leaned forward and set them on the table. "I want two new ones," she told Duke who was dealing. He handed her two cards and she looked at them. "No, I don't like those, give me two new ones," she said and tried to hand them back. Spot caught her hand and pulled her back against his chest.

"How many did ya giver her?" Race asked Trick and she just shrugged. He laughed and put the cigar back in his mouth.

"I think we're losing," Annabelle said to Spot. He took the hand from her and folded. "Why did you do that, we could have won!"

"We'll get them next hand," he said in a soothing voice. Annabelle nodded and laid her head against his shoulder. He slid his hand under the table and rested it on her knee. Annabelle smiled to herself and set her hand on top of his lacing their fingers together. She turned her face to his and he tenderly kissed her. She smiled and gave him another peck on the lips.

"Hey, are ya two playin or are ya ganna go and get a room!" Race complained as he passed them five cards. Spot picked them up and held them up so Annabelle could see. She was hardly paying attention to the cards anymore as she closed her eyes and nuzzled closer to Spot.

"You alright?" He asked looked down at her. She nodded but made a groaning sound. "Hey boys, we're out for now," Spot said tossing the cards.

"Alright Spot, see ya later," Switch said. Spot helped Annabelle stand and she laughed as she stumbled against him.

"You wanna get some air?" he asked as he steadied her. She nodded and clutched her head as the room began to spin. They walked out the front door and down the front stairs. A few other Newsies had poured outside for a smoke so Spot took her into the side alley. "Feel better?" he asked. Annabelle placed her hands on his shoulders and he held onto her hips.

"I always feel good when I'm around you," she said and stepped closer to Spot. "I feel safe," she whispered before she kissed him. Spot hesitantly responded. A war began to rage between his mind and his urge to continue. Annabelle tried to deepen the kiss but Spot pulled away.

"Annabelle, don't, ya drunk," he said as tenderly as he could. Annabelle scowled slightly and pulled away.

"No I'm not," she argued. Don't you want to kiss me?" Spot chuckled and pulled her back into his arms.

"Course I do, but I aint ganna take advantage of ya," he responded. Annabelle smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

"You're perfect," she said resting her head on his shoulder. He chuckled and rubbed her back. His breath caught in his throat as he felt her trailing delicate kisses on his neck.

"Annabelle," he scolded but his voice came out as more of a growl. "Maybe we should go back inside," he suggested. Annabelle didn't answer as she kept her attention focused on the tender skin just below his ear. It took most of his will power to push her back and it took all of his will power to take her hand and lead her back inside. He made her sit down on the couch, but when he sat next to her, she stood momentarily before sitting across his lap. Not that he was going to complain.

"There you are," Sarah said as she sat on the couch next to them. Jack sat on the arm rest next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You alright? You look tired."

"I'm perfect, absolutely perfect," she answered and leaned against Spot. Sarah looked up at Jack and they both exchanged amused smiles. "I'm thirsty, I'm going to get something to drink," she stated and stood up. Spot watched her as she walked over to Trick and got another beer before sitting next to her and watching the game.

"So how have things been Spot?" Jack asked drawing his attention. Spot shrugged and looked back to Annabelle. It was nearly impossible for him to take his eyes off of her. "That's real specific."

"Sorry," Spot said with a laugh. "Things have been real good. Business is going real well and all. Ya know, just the day in day out." Sarah looked up at Jack and noticed his serious expression. She excused herself and let the boys talk.

"I meant with Annabelle." Spot ran a hand through his hair. "Ya thought at all about what we talked about?"

"Ya actually and the more I think about it the more I know that ya wrong," Spot answered truthfully. "I appreciate ya havin my back, Jacky, I really do. But Annabelle aint nothin like Laura was. She'd perfect in every way. I love her."

"Ya treadin dangerous water Spot. Ya gatta start thinkin this through. I know she seems perfect now but ya used ta think that about Laura too. Where are ya ganna be in a month, two moths, five months?" Spot thought about it for a moment.

"Truth is, I don't know where I'll be. But wherever life is ganna try and take me I'm ganna fight ta keep Annabelle at my side. I aint ganna let her get away."

"I wish ya the best man. If ya ever need somethin, ya know ya can can't on me, alright?" Spot and Jack shook hands and Spot even stood to clap Jack on the back.

"I gatta go get Annabelle. It's gettin late and she'd ganna wanna walk off the alcohol before she gets home." Jack chuckled and Spot headed over to the poker table. "Hey Trick, where'd Annabelle go?" he asked as he noted her absence.

"Said she was hittin the John," Trick said absentmindedly, her eyes focused on the cards in her hand. Spot crossed the room to the small water closet. It was empty. "Sarah, ya seen Annabelle?" he asked and Sarah shook her head. "Shit," he cursed. He ran to the front door and flung it open. "Ya boys seen Annabelle?" he asked the smokers outside. They chorused 'no'. Spot ran back inside and sprinted up the stairs having to step over several Newsies who littered the steps. "Annabelle!" Spot called as he ran into his room. He sighed in relief as he saw Annabelle sitting on the edge of his bed. "I been lookin all over for ya," he said as he approached her. He blanched as he saw an old photograph in her hand.

"It was on your nightstand," she said without looking up at him. Spot could hear the tears in her voice. "She's beautiful…a lot more beautiful than me." In the photograph a girl with straight flaxen hair was smiling. Her eyes were bright and her smile was flawless. "You must miss her a lot." Spot walked over to Annabelle and knelt in front of her.

"I used to," he said in a gentle voice. "I used to miss her with every breath. So much so it was hard ta breath sometimes. But that aint the case no more." He took the photograph from her and ripped it in half. "Now it hurts ta breath every time I think about you." Annabelle turned her watery eyes to his and he brushed a tear away with his thumb.

"I don't believe you," she said and started crying harder. Spot did the only thing he could think of. He kissed her. Holding her face with both hands, one knee on the bed next to her leg to keep her from moving. Salty tears mixed with the kiss and Annabelle clung to Spot as her shoulders shook.

"Annabelle," he said pulling away enough to look into her eyes. "You're my girl not 'cause I got stuck with ya, but because there aint no one else out there for me. Every time my heart beats its 'cause a' you, 'cause without you there aint no reason for me to have a pulse." He kissed her again and she sniffled. "Ya believe me no?" she only nodded. "Ya want a glass a' water?" She nodded again. He rushed into the bathroom and grabbed a glass from the medicine cabinet. He filled it with cold water and grabbed a washcloth as he walked back into the room. He arrived just in time to see Annabelle leaving the room. He set the glass and washcloth down and hurried after her. "Where ya goin?" he asked with a laugh as Annabelle stood in the hall trying to pry the window open.

"I wanted to see the stars," she said in a slightly slurred tone. Spot chuckled and opened the window for her.

"Come on," he said helping her onto the fire escape. It took an extra few minutes to get onto the roof because Annabelle was having a hard time walking in a straight line.

"It's so beautiful out," Annabelle said as she starred up at the sky. Spot had his arms wrapped around her from behind to keep her steady. "What time is it?"

"Late, around twelve or so. We should be headin back soon. Don't want ta keep ya out too late." Annabelle turned around in his arms.

"I don't want to go back. I hate it there. I want to stay here with you." Spot gave her a hesitant look. "Please Spot, let's just stay here on the roof and look at the stars all night. Just you and me." Her pleading eyes were wide and slightly glazed. He kissed her forehead and smiled.

"Here," he said sitting her down on the roof next to the railing. "No wanderin ok? I'll be right back." Annabelle nodded and he quickly headed down the fire escape. He returned a minute later with two blankets and two pillows. Annabelle was sitting peering over the side of the building and Spot draped a blanket over her shoulders. She smiled at him as he spread the second blanket out on the rooftop to keep them from getting dirt. He tossed the pillows down and sat down, Annabelle quickly joining him. She sat between his legs, her back resting against his chest with the blanket pulled up to her chin.

"Spot, do you believe in God?" she asked. Spot chuckled at the question. He looked down at her and she titled her chin up to meet his eyes.

"Course I do. He sent me you, didn't He?" Annabelle's eyes grew watery again and for a moment Spot wondered if he said something wrong. She turned her face around to look at him straight on.

"I love you," she said in a small voice. There it was. She'd said it. Spot couldn't help the stabbing pain in his chest as his heart fluttered uncontrollably, but somehow he wished she hadn't said it. "Did you hear me?" she asked.

"Annabelle, ya I heard ya, but I don't think that ya mean it. ya had a couple drinks tonight and I don't think that ya thinkin straight." Annabelle furrowed her brow and sat on her knees in front of him.

"Spot, I-I wanted to tell you that day on the pier and I wanted to tell you earlier today. I wanted to tell you the moment I knew. I know, in my heart," she took his hand and placed it over her heart as emphasis. "I love you. I love you. I love you." That was all it took for him to be hooked on hearing those words. She kissed him and he didn't hold back this time. He pulled her closer and the familiar butterflies began roaming.

Annabelle pulled away enough to pull the comb out of her hair. Spot ran his fingers through her hair cherishing how soft the curls were. He swallowed the lump in his throat as Annabelle lay on her back resting her head on one of the pillows. She looked up at him with large doe eyes, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. He brushed his knuckles across her face and bent down to kiss her again.

She wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him across her. He let his full weight rest on her as he pulled the blanket over the two of them. He stopped the kiss and rested his forehead against hers.

"Goodnight," he whispered and she smiled. He shifted his weight and lay on his back, pulling Annabelle into his side. She laid her head on his chest listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. "**Let's just take our time. There's nothing else to do, what better way to spend our night then wasting it here with you. The moon has won the war. Daylight waits to end. Stay here by my side. We'll watch the struggle start again."**

He starred up at the stars as he ran his fingers through her hair. Soon she was fast asleep, her arms wrapped securely around him.

"**I need you now and forever, to stay right here with me. Don't ever leave. Love was kept from me like a secret and I swore that I was through until you. Until you**."

Spot knew that it didn't matter where they were in a month, two months, five months or ten years. He had now with Annabelle. She was his. Her heart belonged to him. And his heart belonged to her.

"**The city settled down. I watch you as you sleep. There's a silent celebration for every breath you breathe. Now this all makes sense, you as company. I left all I knew and loved to better part of me. I need you now and forever, to stay right here with me. Don't ever leave. Love was kept from me like a secret and I swore that I was through until you. Until you."**

He looked down at her sleeping form and smiled. The key necklace I had given her hung around her neck as a symbol that she was his. He chuckled to himself. It looked better on her than on him. He gently stroked her cheek and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

"**The time it took to find you I would wait again my baby the feelings that I feel with you now. I need you now and forever, to stay right here with me. Don't ever leave. Love was kept from me like a secret and I swore that I was through, until you, until you, until you, until you**_._"

**A/N** 'Until You' by Dave Barnes


	13. Reunited

Spot was leaning against the side of the building starring out at the city. The sun had just come up and the cool air was turning warm. He took a drag from his cigarette before flicking the bud over the railing. He turned to look at Annabelle who was sleeping soundly on the makeshift bed. Her hair was disheveled and covering most of her face.

He walked over to her and slipped under the blanket next to her. She rolled over and snuggled into his warmth a small moan escaping. He brushed the hair from her face and delicately pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him.

"Morning," he whispered. Her hand went to his face as she brushed her hand over his cheek. He smiled and kissed her palm. Spot saw the moment she escaped her sleep daze. Her brow furrowed and her face contorted with confusion.

"Did…did we sleep up here all night?" she asked and Spot nodded. "I…oh, I'm so embarrassed." She covered her face with her hands and Spot chuckled. "I can't believe I was drunk."

"Ah it wasn't that bad," Spot consoled. "I promise, ya didn't do nothin wrong." Annabelle removed her hands and looked up at him, her memory rushing over her. She trailed a finger along the red mark under his right ear. "Well, maybe one thing," he teased and Annabelle groaned as she pulled the blanket over her face. "Annabelle," Spot said wrapping his arms around her.

"I was such a fool," she groaned. "Stop laughing!" Annabelle scolded as she flung the blanket off her face. Spot couldn't help his amusement. "Spot!" she hit his shoulder, but that only made him laugh harder. She hit him again and he started tickling her. Annabelle couldn't help but laugh. She kept hitting his shoulders and Spot caught one of her wrists. He held it above her head and pinned her body to the ground with his. As her eyes met his, her laughter caught in her throat.

"Ya not a fool," he whispered as his lips hovered above hers. She only nodded. He firmly pressed his lips against hers. He slid his hand down her side and her back arched against him. Annabelle's free hand wrapped around his neck. Her stomach fluttered as his hips pressed against hers. She dug her nails into the back of his neck and he pulled away, his eyes shut. "Don't do that," he said in a husky voice. His eyes opened an Annabelle saw how much darker they had become. Annabelle made to kiss him again, but he rolled off of her and stood. Annabelle sat up and he extended a hand to her. She took it and he helped her to stand. She located her hair comb and twisted her hair back.

Silently, they carried the blankets and pillows down the fire escape and back inside. The other Newsies had already left for the day leaving them alone. Annabelle began remaking Spot's bed for him as he slipped into the bathroom.

Her mind raced as she tried to remember the events of the previous night. As she placed the pillow on his bed she suddenly remembered…she'd said it. She'd told him how she felt. She'd told him that she loves him…_did he say it back_? No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember him saying it.

She walked to the door of the bathroom and watched as Spot towel dried his face. He saw her in the corner of his eye and smiled. Her eyes inadvertently grew watery.

"What's the matter?" he asked as he turned to her. She shook her head and went back into the room. He tossed the towel in the sink and followed her. "Hey, talk to me," he said as he caught her hand and pulled her over to his bed.

"I remember what I told you last night," she said in a small voice, her eyes on the ground. "I don't want you to say it back unless you mean it…but I thought, I hoped that…maybe you would." He placed a hand on her cheek and pulled her eyes up to his.

"You were drunk last night, when ya said it. I didn't know if ya meant it or not and I wasn't ganna say it back when ya wasn't thinkin clearly," he answered. She nodded, but still felt her heart stinging painfully.

"Do you? I just want to know… because I know that I do," Annabelle was fidgeting. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I don't want to force you into saying anything…" Spot pulled her into his embrace and pressed his forehead against hers.

"Annabelle, stop talkin," he said with a chuckle. "Of course I love you. How could I not?" Annabelle couldn't help the small moan that escaped her throat when he kissed her. Her head was swimming and a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. All of them vanished and her mind went blank the moment Spot had her backed against the bedpost. It wasn't a moment later Annabelle sat on the edge of his bed and he leaned over her just enough to coax her onto her back. Spot shifted his weight onto his side as he lay on the bed, leaning over her. His hand played with the hem of her skirt, bringing it up just enough to run his fingers over her knee.

"Annabelle," he breathed against her lips. She looked up at him with glazed and slightly watery eyes, her lips swollen from the bruising kiss. She ran her hands down his chest and as he kissed her again she wrapped them around his back bringing him closer.

He pulled the comb out of her hair and ran his fingers through it. It tickled his face and he took a deep breath, enjoying the lilac scent before kissing her again. Annabelle's fingers timidly slid under the hem of hit shirt and grazed the bare skin of his lower back. Annabelle smiled into the kiss as she felt him shiver.

Her hands worked their way under his shirt as he carefully unhooked her stocking, first the left then the right, and slid it to her ankle. His warm hand on her bare thigh only encouraged her wandering hands. She ran her fingernails across his skin and he shuddered.

"Don't do that," he whispered against her lips and she giggled before kissing him. He growled low in his throat as she dug her fingernails into his back. He sat up on his knees and pulled his shirt off over his head. He starred down at Annabelle who was starring up at him. She had a soft smile on her flushed face. He grinned and carefully climbed over her, his lips claiming hers before trailing down to her neck. Annabelle hugged him closer, turning her head to the right to give him better access. As her hands traveled up to his shoulders, her fingers grazed the scar that ran over his left shoulder.

Her sharp inhalation of breath pulled Spot's attention from her neck to her eyes. He held them for a moment before they flickered to his left shoulder. She trailed a finger along the jagged scar until it reached the top of his shoulder. She chanced looking into his eyes, but found he had closed them as though he were savoring the sensation. Her eyes filled with tears as she envisioned the pain that must has arisen when he received that scar. She gently pressed her lips against his shoulder where the scar was visible.

"We should stop," Spot whispered. Annabelle furrowed her brow and Spot quickly got up. He grabbed his shirt off the floor and pulled it on.

"Why? Don't…don't you want to?" she asked as she sat up. Spot fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt for a moment.

"It aint that. I just don't think it'd be right. You're a classy gal Annabelle. I won't take advantage of ya." Annabelle stood and took his hand between hers.

"You're not. I want you to…I want to be with you, only you. I thought you loved me." Spot sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. He kneeled in front of her.

"I do Annabelle, that's why I'm not. I respect you and I love you. When the time comes we'll know, alright? Ya gatta trust me on this one. You'd regret it." Annabelle felt a rush of embarrassment and Spot kissed her quickly. He took hold of her stocking and gently rolled it up her leg, his fingers grazing the tender skin as he buckled it. He similarly fastened the other one and straightened the skirt of her dress. He smiled to her and pulled her into another kiss before helping her to stand. "Let's get you home."

X

Spot kissed her at the door. He grinned as he lightly tugged on the key hanging from her neck.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked. Annabelle nodded and wrapped her arms around him and he hugged her tightly. "I love you," he whispered in her ear.

"I love you," she whispered back. He kissed her one last time before she opened the door and slipped inside. She watched from the window as he walked down the stoop and began walking back to Brooklyn.

"Where have you been?" Mrs. Long snapped. Annabelle turned around and rolled her eyes. "Annabelle, answer me!"

"Out, I've been out." She began walking up the stairs when Mrs. Long grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

"Go upstairs and clean up, we're having company for lunch." Annabelle pulled her arm back and ran upstairs into her room. She slipped out of her dress and opened her wardrobe to collect another one. It was a white dress with a red petticoat and a red sash around the waist. She pinned her hair up with small jewels and pulled on a new pair of shoes.

As it was nearing lunch time Annabelle entered the dining room in hopes of finding Mrs. Long. She wasn't there. Annabelle walked into the small parlor and saw Mrs. Long holding a tea cup as she starred out the window.

"Mrs. Long, who are we having over for lunch?" Annabelle asked. Mrs. Long turned to her and then Annabelle saw someone stand from the chair that was facing away from her.

"Me, Annabelle my dear."

X

Spot was nearing the pier when he felt someone following him. His hand instinctively flew to his cane. He turned the corner of the street and he turned waiting for the person to reveal themselves. He nearly lost his balance as someone smacked into his chest. He took the person by the upper arms and steadied them. He gasped as his eyes met sterling blue. Bright flaxen hair stuck out from under a purple hat. Soft ivory skin was under his hands as he held her arms. A purple gloved hand went to his face. It was a light touch and tickled his calloused skin.

"Laura? What the hell are ya doin here?"

**A/N** Sorry it's short, but I needed to divide chapters. Review please and thank you :)


	14. Raw

**A/N Sorry it took so long. I've been very very very busy. I'm moving to Texas in August. Hopefully I'll be able to wrap this story up in the next week or two.**

Annabelle wanted to cry. She could feel her throat constricting painfully, her stomach churning into knots, and her eyes welled up with tears. James stood there starring at her. As her eyes met his the room began to swim. Static filled her ears, she shivered in a cold sweat, and then her vision blackened. The last thing she remembered was feeling the back of her head collide with the floor.

X

"Spot, won't you even look at me?" the flaxen haired young woman asked as she followed Spot. He was walking angrily away from her down the sidewalk away from the pier and toward the Lodging House. "Spot please!" She grabbed his hand and he stopped walking. He pulled his hand out of hers and turned slowly to face her. "Didn't you miss me?" Spot recognized the look she was giving him. Her big doe eyes, slightly protruding lower lip, the teasing way she tilted her head and exposed her neck. There was a time when he fell for it…there was a time he craved it.

"Ya wanna know what I missed?" he asked and a small smile formed on her face. "I missed the girl I fell in love with…before I found out what a manipulative little bitch she was." Laura's eyes fell to the ground.

"I deserved that. I don't blame you for being angry with me Spot. I'd be angry with me if I was you. I'm not asking you to forgive me right away…but I missed you, Spot. I want you back in my life. I still love you." She took his hand again and for a moment, Spot didn't pull his hand back.

"You know," he said and tightened his grip on her hand to which Laura smiled. "Ya must have practiced that…I almost believed that ya still loved me. But ya left a big piece of evidence for the whole world ta see." He lifted her hand and flicked her wedding ring before dropping her hand again. He turned and began walking away again.

"Spot, no, it's not what you think," she said and ran in front of him. "Please just let me explain." He walked around her and she continued to follow him. "How could I divorce him? It isn't proper, Spot. I would become a social outcast, filth. Everything I knew and loved would have been ripped away from me." Spot turned around so quickly Laura smacked into him.

"_I_ would have been there!" he yelled. His voice crack…his throat swelled and his vision blurred. "Damn Laura, ya always thinkin about yaself. I was there for you, I was _always_ there for you and ya left me like it didn't mean nothin! So don't feed me any of ya bullshit! Ya can't have ya cake and eat it to. Go back to ya husband, I'm done with ya."

"So that's how it's going to be Spot? I come to apologize and you just send me away? What about what we had Spot? I'm not giving up on us!" Tears were streaming from her eyes and Spot turned his back on her. "You still love me Spot, I know it!"

X

Annabelle awoke as she felt something cool pressed to her forehead. She opened her eyes and panic overcame her as she saw James towering over her. She sat up, her head pounding, and found she was laying on the couch in the parlor, James sitting next to her.

"Easy darling, you suffered quite fall. How are you feeling?" His voice was smooth, anger free. It petrified her. She removed the damp cloth from her forehead and set it aside.

"James what are you doing here?" Annabelle asked and her voice revealed how distraught she was. "I thought you were in Chicago…"

"I came back early. We _do_ have a wedding to plan." Annabelle looked away from him. "And how have you been since I was away?" His tone had turned edgy. She didn't answer at first. "What's this?" he took the key around her neck and held it in his hand. "Rather…_ugly_ isn't it?" Annabelle grabbed it from him. It was then she realized they were alone in the parlor. "I heard that you were quite…_busy_ in my absence." Annabelle made to stand, but James pushed her back onto the couch and stood. He brushed the hair from the side of her neck revealing a small red mark on her neck. "Seems you've been _very _busy." Annabelle let out a small scream as he grabbed her by her upper arms and hauled her to her feet. "So who is it, Annabelle? Who is it that has captured your heart and kept it from me?" He forced his lips against hers and with her arms pinned to her sides she could only helplessly turn her face away from him. "Or is it that you've been warming his bed!" his voice came out like a roar. She pulled herself out of his grasp and back away from him.

"I don't love you James. I will _never_ love you. Can't you understand that?" James threw his head back and laughed.

"Oh Annabelle, you are a fool. Love has nothing to do with marriage. It's business, _dearest_. Your parents owned six counties that have oil flows. Combine that empire with my family's law firm and I'll be the richest man on the eastern seaboard!" James began walking toward her, but she ducked around the other side of the couch to distance herself. "Now you be a good little _wife_ and tell me who it is you've been seeing." Annabelle only shook her head. The door to the study opened and Mrs. Long walked in. James straightened and brushed his coat off.

"I hope I'm not interrupting, but Mr. Long is waiting to take you to your piano lessons, Annabelle," Mrs. Long said. Annabelle practically ran out the door without so much as looking at James.

Mr. Long was waiting outside with a handkerchief pressed to his lips when Annabelle bounded down the front steps. He stood upright and offered her his best smile.

"Please Mr. Long, we must make haste," she said as she jumped into the back of the coach. "Quickly, to the Brooklyn Lodging House." Mr. Long nodded silently and sped off.

The front door to Annabelle's house remained open as the two men stood watching the coach disappearing around a corner.

"Mr. Doyle, be a good man and follow her for me? I _must_ know where my dear fiancé is heading off to."

"Yes sir…"

X

"Would ya push off?" Spot yelled to Laura as she followed him into the Brooklyn Lodging House. "I don't know how many ways ta say it, I want nothin ta do with ya." He stomped up the stairs to his room and threw the door open. He stormed over to his bed and began shoving random things in his trunk. Not because they needed to be there, but because he had the insatiable desire to slam something. The soft clicking of heels alerted him that Laura was still there.

"I don't understand why you're being so cold Spot…I know I hurt you, but can't you forgive me? I came back didn't I?" Laura asked in a small voice.

"Ya," Spot said as he turned to glare at her. "Ya came back and ya still wearing a wedding ring!" Laura walked across the room to him.

"If that's what's standing in your way, then here," she slipped the ring off her finger and put it into her coin purse. "I don't have to wear it around you." She placed her hands on his chest. "Don't you miss this Spot?" she whispered. "Don't you miss the way we were together?" She placed a hand on his cheek and his eyes shut. "Spot, I still love you." As she leaned in to kiss him he grabbed her wrists almost painfully.

"No, I don't miss it, Laura, and I haven't missed you in a long time. In fact, I haven't even thought about ya in weeks." Laura's face turned to shock. "Didn't I tell ya? I found someone else. Oh ya, and she's perfect in every way. I'm more in love with her than God should ever allow. She's tha air I breathe and the blood in my veins. So ya see, I aint got room for ya in my life no more." Laura jumped away from him as though he had burned her.

"I-I don't believe you," she said the shock evident in her voice. Spot felt an overwhelming sensation of accomplishment as he saw the pain cross her face. "No, that can't be…_we_ belong together Spot. Does one mistake erase our history?"

"You made your choice, Laura. Ya chose a richie over me. Ya made it perfectly clear that all ya want is someone to hang on your every word."

"What is it with you and _richies_ as you call them?" Laura snapped. "You had this problem even when we were together. For all the bigotry you accuse wealthy people of, you sure have your own judgmental thoughts."

"Ya maybe I do, but Annabelle aint like you. She aint like any of you. She's the best girl I've ever met and way too good for your snobby, self-righteous world," Spot snapped back. "_Next time I try to cross your mind remind me to look both ways so I don't get hit by your lies. You lacerate me with all of these memories and now I wear these scars out on my sleeve. These broken hearts are left with scars because of your lies. And all this time it feels like I'm chasing shadows at midnight._"

"If she's as amazing as you say she is, then how long do you think she'll stick around?" Laura asked. Her tone had turned icy and mean. "For all the reasons you hate me for leaving, I think the worst is that your pride was hurt. You know I left because of all the things you weren't." Spot turned around and angrily began slamming things into his trunk. "You could never provide for me the way my husband can. Look at yourself Spot, your life is going nowhere. So go ahead and blame me for why you're so angry, but you know deep inside I left because _you_ weren't good enough for _me_." A moment passed when they were both silent. When she did speak again, her voice had dropped to its usual softness. "I love you Spot, make no mistake about that. But could you really expect me to stay? I'm back now, married yes, but I still want you. I'll give you some time to think about it." He should have turned and told her to never come back, but he didn't.

"_The days fade and stars come out at night. And when the sun goes down I know exactly what I'll find. Some things in this life will never change. We both have apologies to exchange. These broken hearts are left with scars because of your lies. And all this time It feels like I'm chasing shadows at midnight. How could I let myself fall into your lies I only trusted you with all of my life. Now I am stuck here I'm trapped under ice. The only way out is for me not to ask why._" He waited until her soft footsteps couldn't be heard before slamming his fist into the wall.

"Easy there," Roxie said from the bathroom doorway. She was leaning against the doorframe casually. Spot recoiled his hand, his knuckles bloody. "Couldn't help hearin ya conversation. Damn, never thought I'd see Laura back here."

"What's your point?" Spot asked his voice laden with anger. Roxie glided across the room and handed Spot a dampened rag. He took it and began wiping his hand clean.

"I think Laura said it all. Ya got a nasty habit of messin around with these richie girls, Spot. While I admire ya for ya ability ta smooth talk ya way into their world, the reality is ya aint part of their world."

"I don't need a lecture, Roxie, especially not from you," Spot said as he wrapped the rag around his knuckles. "I know how ya feel about Annabelle. It was the same way ya felt about Laura too."

"The truth is, Spot," Roxie said as she sat on the bed across from his. "I'm not here because of how I feel about Annabelle and Laura." Spot gave her a look that asked why she was here then. "I'm here because of how I feel about you." Spot opened his mouth to question her meaning when the pointed look she was giving him answered it all. "I've sat and watched you get hurt time after time by these richie brats and now I can't just sit and watch it again. It happened with Laura and like it or not it's ganna happen with Annabelle too." Spot stood and walked into the bathroom, but Roxie followed him. "What Laura said was right. Ya aint a part of their world and they aint a part of ours. It'll never work, Spot."

"Annabelle's different," Spot argued. "She aint nothin like Laura. She'd never leave the way Laura did, not in a million years. We love each other."

"Really? Do you really believe that? If Annabelle loves you so much, why hasn't she left her fiancé for you? Why does she still wear her engagement ring? Why does she always go back to her richie mansion at the end of the day? Because that's where she belongs. It's the same reason ya feel uncomfortable in her world. Because ya don't belong there." Spot grew silent. He placed a hand on either side of the sink and stared at his own reflection. Roxie appeared in the mirror behind him.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, what she was saying hit home. It was the fear that had been plaguing the back of his mind ever since he met Laura and now that he was with Annabelle it had resurfaced. He could feel himself teetering on the edge an unwanted familiar aching in his heart began again. His emotions were quickly shredded into tatters. Maybe it was the lack of sleep from the night before, the long walk to and from Manhattan, and then seeing Laura… his first love, but something Roxie was saying made sense. It made too much sense.

"You don't belong in their world Spot," Roxie said in a gentler voice as she approached him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he turned to look down at her. "You belong here in the Newsie world…with me." He knew what she was doing. He knew he should stop her. He knew he should push her away, leave the room, and find Annabelle. But he didn't. Part of him wanted it to happen. To prove the he was in control of his world. No one was going to hurt Spot Conlon and get away with it. No one could jerk his heart around like a whipped dog on a chain leash. Never.

Roxie stood on her tip toes simultaneously pulling Spot's mouth down and their lips met. He was unresponsive at first, just allowing her top kiss him. But as Spot pictures Annabelle's sweet face in his mind, an arm wrapped around her waist. Just as he was ripping himself back to his senses, a shrill gasp finished the job. The two separated and Spot looked up. Roxie grinned triumphantly and tried to wrap her arms tighter around Spot. He pushed her away however and ran from the bathroom after the brokenhearted onlooker.

**A/N 'Chasing Shadows At Midnight' Pillar - One of the best bands EVER!**


	15. Shattered

**A/N Happy 4****th**** of July! Annabelle's singing will be in **_italics_.

Annabelle had made up her mind. She was going to tell Spot everything about James. It had been her intention all along, but she allowed herself to live in a pretend world for too long. With James gone she had wanted to pretend he'd never come back…but now he had. She couldn't pretend anymore. Reality had shattered every column of her imaginary life. Now she had to be honest with Spot…and pray he had a plan.

The coach pulled to a stop in front of the Lodging House and Annabelle jumped out before Mr. Long could even set the reins down. Annabelle was running up the steps to the door when Mr. Long called after her.

"Miss," he called loudly then covered his mouth to cough, "what time shall I return for you?" Annabelle brushed her bangs out of her eyes and it was then she noticed a second coach pulling up behind hers.

"Oh…could you wait here Mr. Long, I won't be staying," Annabelle inquired. Mr. Long nodded and smiled. Annabelle glanced at the smaller coach for a moment before opening the door and stepping inside.

"Hello Annabelle," Mr. Hamlin said from behind the counter. Annabelle gave him a polite smile and began walking up the steps quickly. She hoped Spot had decided to sell the evening addition. If he had made it back in time to sell the afternoon then she'd wait in his room…she'd wait a week if she had to. Anything to not go home.

As she was halfway up the staircase someone began to pass on her right. She looked up and her brow immediately furrowed. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Fashionable dress. Perfectly painted face. Strikingly beautiful. The two locked eyes, both sizing one another up. Their shoulders went rigid. Neither stopped walking. One descending. One ascending. They turned their upper torsos to keep eye contact as long as possible.

The blonde broke eye contact first. She looked to the front door as Mr. Hamlin was opening it for her. He removed his hat and bowed his head.

"Good seeing you again Laura," he said and the blonde nodded to him. She turned to look back at Annabelle and smiled brightly before the door shut behind her. Annabelle shook her head and ran up the last few steps. As she walked through the door to Spot's room she could hear his voice in the bathroom.

A wave of relief swept over her. He was there. Now all she had to do was explain why she was so afraid of James. Spot would think of a plan and then they could be together without any pro….

_Oh…_

That was her first thought. _Oh…_ Then a cold wall of shock slammed into her body making her fingers tingle, her stomach sink, her head swim, and her eyes bulge.

Her second thought was how sick she felt. His arm around her waist, their lips tangled together. One of her arms around his neck, the other hanging on his other arm. It was disgusting. Nauseating. Repulsive.

Her body began demanding oxygen. She hadn't realized she'd stopped breathing. Her sharp inhalation sounded more like a gasp…it was a gasp. Then her wet eyes met his. Just as quickly, she turned and ran from the room. She could hear his voice. He must have been calling her name, but for some reason his words took no form.

It wasn't until she felt a strong hand grab her arm that she reeled around. A smacking sound resounded and she realized she must have slapped him. He instinctively dropped her arm and she ran outside.

Spot was too quick however, and easily grabbed her arm again. He spun her around to look at him. A large red mark had appeared on his left cheek. Tears were already leaking from the corners of her eyes.

"Annabelle it aint what ya think," he said slightly out of breath. A choking scoff escaped her and she pulled her arm away.

"Not…not what I think?" her voice was tight and she began rambling. "I-I don't even know what to think, Spot. I'm hoping that I fell asleep on the ride over here and I'm only having a horrible nightmare. Is this a nightmare Spot?" He didn't answer but only broke eye contact. "Then…then you really did kiss her…you really were kissing her?" Her throat constricted causing her to drop her voice to a whisper. "How…how could you?"

"Just let me explain," he begged. Annabelle stood there waiting for him to say something. It was a mistake. She hadn't really seen him kissing her. Maybe she was choking…no _she_ had kissed _him_ and because she left quickly she hadn't seen Spot push her away and verbally bash her. That was it. It had to be. "I'm just confused about some things and I made a stupid decision." Wrong answer.

"Confused? Confused about what? Did…did you think Roxie was me? We...we don't look alike…" she said in a pitiful voice. She wanted to understand…no she wanted it to never have happened.

"Confused about us, about me and you and…Christ," he furiously ran a hand through his hair and took a step away from her, but almost immediately stepped back. He didn't want her to run again. "It's just that I've had a rough mornin. Ok, I just met someone that kinda threw me…"

"Laura…oh God," Annabelle covered her mouth with her hand as she stepped backward. "I saw her as I was coming up. What is this Spot, you-you have us scheduled in at certain times and-and I just happened to show up without an appointment? Laura and Roxie and-and me?"

"Now ya just being irrational, you know I aint like that," Spot said and a sudden anger overcame him. "I told ya it was a mistake. I don't care about Roxie at all I was just mad and I made a stupid decision."

"What about Laura," Annabelle asked. "What was she doing here? You said you didn't want her anymore. Was that a lie? Do you still love her?"

"No of course not," Spot shouted. "She just showed up and I told ya it threw me off. Can't ya understand that?" Annabelle felt her temper rising as well.

"Well maybe I'd be more understanding if I hadn't come across you snogging someone like _Roxie_," she shouted back. Spot's irrational anger got the best of him.

"What do you mean, 'someone like Roxie'?" he asked his voice still elevated. "Roxie is _someone_ like me! A Newsie! If ya'd seen me kissin Laura would it have been better because she's a richie?"

"What are you talking about?" Annabelle asked in shock. "Are you asking what kind of promiscuous tramp I'd rather see you kissing? If that's the case I'd choose neither. I don't understand why you're angry with me! I'm the one who discovered what a charlatan you are!"

"Well maybe that's ya problem Annabelle, ya don't understand much. In case ya forgot, that's an engagement ring on ya finger. If anyone's the _charlatan_ it's you," Spot snapped.

"Why are you doing this?" Annabelle asked as she shook her head. "I came here to explain…to tell you what was happening between James and I. He came back from Chicago and now…"

"Let me guess, ya ganna go off and get married to him," Spot said with a bitter chuckle. "Well I wish ya the best 'a luck Annabelle. You'll excuse me if I don't bother showing up for the reception." His tone was bitter, sarcastic, mocking even. This was a side of Spot Annabelle had never seen…she didn't understand.

"I can't believe this is happening," she said wiping at the tears that had accumulated under her eyes. "Why are you being this way?"

"Being what way, Annabelle?" Spot said lowering his voice. "Maybe it was for the best that this happened." Annabelle took another step away from him. "We were just foolin ourselves if we thought this was ganna last. You and me don't live in the same world."

"What are you saying? We live in one world Spot. You and I, we have a world of our own. We were making it work!" she said in confusion more than anger.

"No, ya just thought it was workin because ya never wanted ta face reality. What did ya think was ganna happen, Annabelle? You were ya ganna leave ya richie fiancé for me? We were ganna get married and live happily ever after? The world don't work that way!" Annabelle went rigid. She couldn't take anymore. So she shut down. Went cold.…it hurt too much not to.

"Yes Spot, that is what I expected to happen. But now… I have no reason to expect that." She dropped her eyes to the ground and desperately tried to fight back tears. "Good by Spot, I hope you and Roxie…or you and Laura will be very happy together." She brushed past him and to Mr. Long who Spot noticed for the first time. He was standing by the coach listening to the entire exchange. Reality smacked him in the face as he saw her climbing into the coach.

"Damn, Annabelle wait!" He grabbed for her hand, but Mr. Long stepped in his path. The old man had a frightening glare on his face.

"You've said quite enough young man," he said in a raspy voice. "I think Miss Danvers is finished with you." Spot took a step back and Mr. Long sat in the driver's seat. "I expect this to be the last time we see you, Mr. Conlon." He snapped the reins and the coach sped off. Annabelle was facing him but her eyes were in her lap. Her fingers clutched something that hung around her neck as her tearstained eyes looked up at him.

X

Annabelle remained sitting even after the coach pulled to a stop in front of her house. Tears were still falling from her eyes and her hand still clutched the key around her neck. She wished she'd given it back to him…she wished she'd thrown it in his face. But for some reason she didn't want it to leave her neck.

"Miss?" Mr. Long asked in a tender voice. She didn't look up however. Mr. Long climbed into the back of the coach and sat across from Annabelle. "We should go inside; it looks like it might rain." Annabelle nodded, but didn't make any attempt to stand. "Is there anything I can do for you, Miss?"

"No Mr. Long," Annabelle said quietly. "Thank you, though." Mr. Long took her free hand in his and kissed it. Annabelle looked up then and met his warm eyes. The paternal look in his eyes gave her enough strength to slowly stand and step out of the coach. As Mr. Long exited behind her she turned and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her tightly in return. He held her at arms length and wiped the tears from under her eyes with his thumbs.

"No tears now," he said gently, "all will be well in the end. You'll see. The sun will shine again." She nodded and he kissed her forehead before releasing her. Annabelle walked silently up the stairs and opened the door. Mrs. Long was standing just inside the door waiting for her.

"There you are Annabelle, how was your piano lesson?" Annabelle didn't answer. She walked past her and began trekking up the stairs. "Well…I've invited Mr. Winchester and Mr. Doyle over for dinner. Does that sound nice?" Annabelle turned around.

"No it doesn't," she answered. "I won't stand to eat with them, but you can do whatever you want." Mrs. Long called after her, but Annabelle just kept walking. She undoubtedly slammed the door in her face and then locked it. She leaned against the door and the sobs she had been controlling finally released. She sank to the floor and cried without restraint. "_Broken heart one more time, pick yourself why even cry. Broken pieces in your hands wonder how you'll make it whole. You know, you pray, this can't be the way. You cry you say something's got to change. And mend this porcelain heart…of mine._" Annabelle crawled over to her wardrobe and changed into her nightdress. 

"_Someone said a broken heart would sting at first then make you stronger. You wonder why this pain remains were hearts made whole just to break. You know, you pray, this can't be the way. You cry, you say something's got to change and mend this porcelain heart…of mine._" Rain was pouring outside and the sky grew dark. Annabelle sat in the open window letting the raindrops fall on her outstretched hand.

"_Creator, only you take broken hearts and create it into beauty once again. You know, you pray, this can't be the way. You cry, you say something's got to change and mend this porcelain heart…of mine. Please mend this porcelain heart…of mine… of mine. Creator, mend this heart._"

An hour later there was a rapping at her bedroom door. Annabelle didn't answer it however. She lay on her bed starring up at the canopy. She'd cried so much no more tears came…now she was just…numb.

X

"I knew I should have put that Newsie in his place," James said as he and Mr. Doyle sat in the study of his house. He took another drink of brandy and set the glass on the windowsill. They'd just come from Annabelle's house. She'd been absent for dinner. Her room had been locked and she blatantly defied him. "I want you to taken care of him," James said with a snarl. "I want him gone, out of the picture entirely. He's gone and planted _ideas_ in Annabelle's head. I'll be damned if I have her break off this engagement when I'm so close. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Mr. Doyle said, "I'll make sure he never comes around again." Mr. Doyle gripped the handle of his cane a little tighter and left the room. James threw his head back as he finished his drink. He yelled and threw the glass against the wall.

**A/N 'Porcelain Heart' by Barlow Girl**


	16. I Can't Think About Her

**A/N So I'm posting this chapter early. I'm actually a smidge depressed, over fifty people have read my last chapter and only one person reviewed. So this chapter is dedicated to Kathryn Mason-Sykes! Thanks girl!!**

Spot rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Any moment the Lodging House would become filled with the ruckus of the boys scurrying to get ready for a long day of selling newspapers. The quiet was overwhelming.

He was restless. Unable to sleep the entire night. Every time his fatigue threatened to overcome him, the memory of Annabelle's pain filled face shook him awake. It was almost too much to bear.

He picked up the pocket watch off his nightstand. He flipped it open and looked at the time….six am. _Fourteen hours, twenty two minutes_… That much time had spanned since he'd broken things off with Annabelle…or did she break it off with him? It was his fault. He'd blown it. Bottom line was things were broken. _Maybe it's for the best_.

No matter now. What's done was done. No going back now. Best to just pick up and move on. Start fresh. Forget what had happened. Forget Annabelle…_forget Annabelle_.

_Annabelle…_

Something crashed to his left followed by a round of curse words. Too late to try and sleep now. Spot rolled out of bed and walked into the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and grabbed the bar of soap. He lathered it onto his face and picked up his razor. Droplets of water splashed onto his bare chest and his eyes flew to his neck. He still couldn't get used to seeing his familiar key absent.

_Annabelle…_  
He carefully ran the blade of the razor along his jaw line. He rinsed the razor and repeated the motion. As he turned his head to the right he saw the small red mark under his ear.

_Annabelle…_

"Mornin Spot," Jinx, said as he rushed to Spot's side. Spot ruffled the kid's hair and grinned. "Is Annabelle comin to Manhattan poker night tonight?"

"I don't think so Jinx," Spot answered stoically. He went back to shaving as Jinx let out a disappointed sigh. The bathroom was beginning to fill as the other Newsies poured in. He caught Roxie's reflection as she walked behind him.

_Annabelle_…

Spot pulled his red checkered shirt on over his head after lacing his shoes up. He grabbed his gold-tipped cane, slipped it through his belt loop, put on his hat and walked swiftly from the room. A good long day of selling papes would certainly distract him from Annabelle.

_Annabelle…_

He passed Mr. Hamlin on his way out and said a quick good morning to him. As he opened the door and stepped out, he saw at least a dozen of his Newsies standing on the sidewalk starring at a procession of wagons that were parked in front of the Lodging House.

"What the hell is goin on?" he asked Duke who was standing nearby. Duke shrugged. Several men wearing plaid shirts and overalls were beginning to unload furniture. It was then Spot saw that odd man that had come from the governor's office…Hubert Miles was it?

"Alright boys, move aside, move aside now please," Mr. Miles called. The boys parted and the working men began carrying what looked like posters for a bed. Two men had an ivory colored couch; another two men were carrying a bathtub. "Sorry it took so long, sir," Mr. Miles said to Mr. Hamlin who had come outside to see the commotion. "It was a rather large order to fill, you see."

"Understandable," Mr. Hamlin said as he scratched his beard. "Well boys, you best get going to the distribution center. Let these men work." The Newsies began muttering amongst each other as they went on their way.

"New beds tonight!" Duke called and everyone cheered. Duke punched Spot's shoulder and he managed a small smile.

_Damnit Annabelle…_

X

"Crooked Banker embezzles thousands!" Spot yelled. He quickly sold his last three papers and pocketed the money. "Ya ready ta head back Jinx?" he asked to the younger boy. Jinx stood from where he was sitting on the curb and rushed to Spot's side.

"Sure thing Spot," he said brightly. The two began walking back toward the Lodging House. The day had been busy. They'd walked all up and down the pier selling their papes to the dockworkers, sailors, and fishermen. Spot would call it a good business day, hundred and twenty papes gone, but hardly a successful day.

He'd intentionally bought extra papes. The more papes the harder he'd push himself to sell. The harder he sold, the less time he'd have to think. To think about Annabelle. However every time he effectively _stopped_ thinking about Annabelle, he would applaud himself for _not_ thinking about her, and in doing so he would remind himself of her.

_Annabelle_.

Everything reminded him of her. Every time his feet hurt he'd think of the long walks to and from Manhattan just to spend time with her. When the storm clouds rolled in and it had rained around lunchtime, he remembered the first day with her in the park. The day he'd told her what it felt like to be in love.

_Annabelle_

It didn't help that Jinx had sold with him that day. Whenever the two had a free moment Jinx would ask about her. Seemed the young boy was rather fond of her…not that Spot could blame him.

_Annabelle_

Even when he tried to distract himself by mentally berating himself for being a jack ass he could only think of how he'd blown it by kissing Roxie. Then when his thoughts roamed from that, he began wondering what the Lodging house would look like with new furniture. That didn't help. He owed it all to Annabelle.

_Annabelle…_

They made it back to the Lodging House. There were still workers bringing in furniture even though it had been a good four hours since they arrived. Jinx ran inside first. Spot followed closely and even he was taken back by the new furnishings. Brand new living room furniture, a new piano, and four bookshelves filled to the max. There was a new rug in the foyer and the staircase railing had been repaired.

The bunkrooms were the biggest change. The bunk beds had been removed and single beds had replaced them. A dozen on each wall. Between each bed (each was complete with a new mattress, bedding, and pillows) was a nightstand with as lamp.

The bathroom was freshly cleaned. New pipes for the sinks, four bathtubs had been installed, and an assortment of towel racks with towels on them now hung on the walls. The linen closet was actually filled with linens instead of cobwebs.

Several Newsies had already claimed their bed. Most had taken a bed that stood where their former bed had and Spot followed suit. He snagged the bed closest to the bathroom in the corner of the room.

Their personal belongings had been pulled to the center of the room so Spot pulled his trunk to the foot of his bed.

"Some digs eh Spot?" Switch said as he took the bed next to Spot's. "Never thought I'd live ta see the day the government did somethin for us street rats. Guess ya got ya girlfriend to thank for that." Switch lay back on the bed and buried his face in the fresh linen.

_Annabelle_

Spot had told Switch on the understanding that Switch didn't tell anyone else. He had been unable to contain the pride he felt for Annabelle. He was amazed at the goldenness of her heart.

_Annabelle_

Spot lay on his back starring up at the ceiling. He pulled a pillow over his face and let out a muffled scream. He heard the creaking of Switch's bed. He was undoubtedly starring at him. Spot removed the pillow from his face and stuffed it behind his head.

"Christ Spot, you look like shit, what's goin on?" Switch asked. Spot shrugged and continued to stare at the wall. "Hey don't pull that crap with me, I know somethin's wrong. Is it Annabelle?"

"Somethin like that," Spot muttered. He chanced a glance at Switch to see if he would drop it, but the look Switch gave him implied the opposite. "She caught me kissin Roxie yesterday."

"Damn," Switch said and let out a surprised sigh. "Didn't expect ta hear that. What the hell did ya kiss Roxie for? I'd I though Annabelle was pissed 'cause Laura was here." Spot arched an eyebrow as if to ask how Switch knew that. "Hamlin spilled," Switch stated.

"I didn't mean ta kiss her, I mean I did, but I didn't mean it 'cause I like her or somethin," Spot answered. He sat up and pulled his hat off. "I was pissed 'cause Laura was here. Then she's sayin she wants ta get with me and that she stills loves me. It shook me and I was mad that it shook me. Then Roxie overheard and was talking all this shit…but it made sense. I was mad and I needed ta have control over somethin…so I did it."

"What kinda shit was Roxie talkin? Sayin you's were good enough for Annabelle 'cause she's a richie?" Spot nodded. "Man that's the same bull she was spoutin when you was seein Laura. Why the hell did ya choose ta listen to her this time?"

"Well she's right aint she!" Spot snapped. "Annabelle comes from a different world than we do. She aint got no business gettin mixed up with garbage like us. She deserves ta be taken care of, provided for. And she aint ganna find none of that here with me."

"What's gotten inta ya Spot? The Spot Conlon I know don't say crap like that. The Spot I know doesn't consider himself garbage. And as for mixin in with us, what the hell was she so happy about in her own life? Aint ya said ya found her ready ta jump off a bridge?" Spot nodded. He'd run into Switch on his way home the night he'd met Annabelle. He'd told him the whole story. "So it seemed ta me when I met her that she was pretty damn happy. Don't ya think that's got somethin ta do with you?"

"Doesn't matter," Spot said as he stood and began pacing. "She may 'a been happy for now, but she wouldn't have been happy forever. She'd a left sooner or later."

"What? Left like Laura did?" Spot turned his back on Switch. "So let me get this straight: Laura comes back and tries ta get with ya. She puts all these thoughts inta ya head about how she's the only one for you. But because she hurt you, ya sent her packin. Then Roxie starts tellin ya that ya aint good enough for no one 'cause she's had it for you since she got here three years ago. So ya use her ta take out ya anger, but Annabelle saw and ya broke it off with her before she could pack it in like Laura did?" Spot nodded. "Damn Spot, I knew ya were a jack ass but I didn't know ya was so selfish."

"What the hell are ya talkin about, I aint selfish and even if I was so what. I gatta look out for myself. No one else will!" Spot argued.

"No one else is lookin out for ya?" Switch asked. "Look around you! Did _you_ buy all this furniture? Did _you_ write the damn letter ta the governor? No! Annabelle did! And it seems ta me that ya pushin everyone away just so _you_ don't get hurt! And ya abandoned Annabelle…that's the worst of it."

"What do ya mean I abandoned her? I sent her back to where she belongs. With her richie friends and her richie fiancé," Spot claimed.

"Ya? Well if the world she comes from is so great, why'd she wanna kill herself? How many of her richie friends did she talk about? Even mention. And what about her fiancé? She seemed rather eager ta forget about him, didn't she? Never said she loved him did she? No, but she sure did love you Spot. Though I'm beginnin ta wonder why."

"Push off," Spot said as he walked for the bathroom. Switch let out a scoff and slammed his hat down on his bed.

"Fine, ya go sit in ya misery. Annabelle's better off without ya," Switch sneered before leaving the room. Spot turned on the faucet and furiously ran his wet hands over his face. The worst part about what Switch had said…was that he was right. Switch was right, Roxie was right, Laura was right…He didn't deserve any of them. He was scum. Garbage. Worthless. Undeserving of anyone's love. Shit.

_Annabelle_

X

"Fold," Spot said as he tossed his cards on the pile. He was sitting at the table in the living space of the Manhattan Lodging House. It seemed their Lodging House had gotten their furniture the day before. It hadn't taken the boys long to break it in.

They were making good use of the new tables, chairs, couches, and bookshelves. Not that they were reading the books, but it was nice having them.

"What's the matta with ya Spot?" Race asked. He removed the cigar from his mouth as he collected the cards. "Ya haven't finished a single hand. Lady luck not with ya tonight?"

"Excuse me," Spot said and slid his chair back. He stood and sauntered from the room. The boys at the table all starred after him.

"What's with Spot?" Jack asked Switch and Duke who had been playing with them. Switch leaned over and whispered the gist of the story to him. "Damn," Jack muttered and stood. He followed Spot as he left the building and entered the side alley. Jack pulled a carton of cigarettes from his back pocket and handed one to Spot. He took it and then lit it.

"Before ya ask, I don't wanna talk about it," Spot mumbled with the cigarette still in his mouth. Jack leaned against the wall of the alley.

"That's fine, I don't either," Jack said as he lit his own cigarette. "You already know where I stand on ya relationship with a richie. Just look what happened with Laura."

"Speak 'a the devil, but guess who's back in town?" Jack furrowed his brow and Spot nodded. "Showed up yesterday. Wedding ring and all."

"Shit," Jack said as he blew the smoke out of his mouth. "What did she want?" Spot chuckled and took a long drag of his cigarette before answering.

"Said she wanted ta get back with me," Spot answered. "Gave me some bullshit about still loving me. How we were meant for each other and how she's the best I could ever do."

"Well aint she?" Jack asked and Spot snorted. "So, Laura shows up and ya break things off with Annabelle, but ya aint gettin back with Laura? I'm confused."

"It didn't happen exactly like that," Spot confessed. "After Laura's tangent about her leaving because I wasn't good enough for her, Roxie showed up. She overheard the conversation and then gave me her _perspective_." Jack nodded his understanding. Roxie's jealousy was well known between the two friends.

"So, what, ya kissed her 'cause ya wanted ta get back at Annabelle for bein a richie?" Spot only shrugged. "Sound ta me like all ya doin is punishin Annabelle for what Laura did to ya."

"What do you care?" Spot asked angrily. "You were tha one that told me not ta mess around with her." Spot took a deep breath and stomped out his cigarette. "Doesn't matter how we ended up splitting, the point is, it's done and it's for the best. Annabelle deserves to be looked after in a way I never could. She deserves the best and I can't give it to her."

"What about you Spot? What do you deserve?" Spot was silent for a long moment. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes focused on the ground. Jack had never seen his friend so…defeated.

"I deserve what I'm getting," Spot said finally. Jack went to argue but Spot held a hand up." Just…leave me be, Jack." Spot stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Thanks for the cig." He slowly walked from the alley and headed back toward Brooklyn.

_Annabelle…_

X

A light rain began to fall. Spot was standing across the street from Annabelle's house. He waited in the shadow of the alley hoping to catch even the slightest glimpse of her. Maybe…it would give him some closure.

The light to her room turned on, and from behind the drawn curtains, he was sure he saw a shadow pass by.

"**I think you can do much better than me. After all the lies I made you believe. Guilt kicks in when I start to see the tears in your eyes where a smile once used to be.**

"**I told myself to forget you but I remember what it feels like beside you. I really miss your hair in my face and the way your innocence taste and I think you should know this. You deserve much better than me.**

"**I told myself to forget you but I remember what it feels like beside you. I really miss your hair in my face and the way your innocence taste and I think you should know this. You deserve much better than me.**

"**The bed I'm lying in is getting colder wish I never would have said it's over and I can't pretend I won't think about you when I'm older 'cause we never really had our closure this can't be the end. **

"**I really miss your hair in my face and the way your innocence taste and I think you should know this. You deserve much better than me. And I think you should know this. You deserve much better than me. And I think you should know this. You deserve much better than me. And I think you should know this….**"

X

A single tear was rolling down Spot's cheek as he rounded the corner to the Lodging House. Only a block away, he just wanted to climb into bed and forget everything. As he passed in front of the alley next to the Lodging House he felt himself suddenly flying forward. He caught himself on his hands and they scraped against the sidewalk.

"What the hell?" he asked himself as he stood. He felt the back of his head and something sticky coated his fingers…blood. He turned around and his eyes met the daunting silhouette of Annabelle's stalker.

"For a street rat, you sure are difficult to track down," the man said with a snarl. Spot instinctively grabbed his cane, but the blow to his head left him slightly unstable. The man…Mr. Doyle? Attacked first. Spot ducked the fist that was sent his way and he managed to slam the end of his cane into Mr. Doyle's left cheek. He faltered, but as Spot made to swing again, Mr. Doyle punched him in the stomach. Spot doubled over in pain and felt the hard tip of Mr. Doyle's can slam into the back of his head.

He fell to the ground and a heavy boot connected with his side. Another kick and he was picked up by the hair. Blow after blow hit him in his face, his chest, his ribs and his back. One final slam to the temple left Spot lying face down in the alley.

"With compliments of Mr. Winchester and Miss Danvers," Mr. Doyle said and straightened his sleeves. Spot felt a swirling dizziness overcome him. As he fell into unconsciousness he had one final thought:

_Annabelle_

**A/N 'Better Than Me' by Hinder. I cut out the second verse because it didn't work with the story,**


	17. I Won't Think About Him

Once again there was a loud rapping on the bedroom door

**A/N HAPPINESS! So, here's the secret. I usually wait until I get five reviews for a chapter before posting the next one. Well, you little stinkers gave me five reviews in two days. Lol, so here's the chapter. Two days earlier than I planned so sorry if there's spelling errors.**

Once again there was a loud rapping on the bedroom door. Annabelle was sitting on the floor under her open window. It had been two days since she'd shut and locked her door. It hadn't opened since.

"Annabelle, open the door," Mrs. Long called from the other side. "If you're ill then let me call the doctor…you haven't eaten…please, open the door." Annabelle felt her stomach rumble. She realized how hungry she was. She stood on tingling legs and walked to the door. After unlatching it, she eased it open slightly. "Good heavens Annabelle, you look like death!" Mrs. Long exclaimed.

"Can you have cook bring me something warm," Annabelle asked. Her voice was scratchy and raw. Mrs. Long pressed her and to Annabelle's forehead but she pushed it away. "I'm not ill; just have cook bring me some soup." With that, Annabelle shut and locked her door again.

She sat at her vanity mirror and ran a brush through her hair. Her face was pale and her skin was blotchy. There were large bags under her eyes and the sparkle in her eye was gone. She slammed her brush on the table.

"No!" she yelled at her reflection. "I won't let this ruin my life!" Annabelle stood and rang the bell. A moment later there was a knock on her door. She opened it and a maid was waiting for instruction. "Good, I want you to draw me a bath. While I'm bathing have someone come in and change my linens."

"Yes ma'am," the maid replied with a curtsy. Annabelle walked to her wardrobe and threw the doors open.

"I'll be damned if I let Spot ruin the rest of my life," Annabelle swore to herself. "I just have to face it…he's gone and now I'm on my own. I just have to forget about him." She pulled out a soft purple dress and spread it over the back of the wardrobe chair. She sat and continued brushing her hair. Her eyes flickered to the key that hung around her neck.

_Spot_

She untied it, opened the left hand drawer, dropped it inside, and slammed the drawer shut. She offered herself an approving smile in the mirror and a small nod.

_No more Spot….Spot_

After pinning her hair on the top of her head, she entered the adjoining bathroom where a hot bath had been drawn for her. She shut and locked the door before slipping from her nightgown. The water was rather warm and felt good against her skin. There was a bottle of lilac scented bathing oil on the small wooden table next to the tub and she poured it into the water.

Annabelle laid her head back against the edge of the tub and closed her eyes. The relaxing aroma soothed her throbbing headache and dull skin.

_I should make sure Mrs. Long is handling the grocery order today. I'd like to invite Sarah over for dinner again. It will be good to see her again…she'll ask about Spot though. Maybe I should tell her. Then again, she probably already knows. Jack would tell her. I don't want to talk about Spot…maybe I'll wait to invite her over._

_Spot…_

Annabelle sighed and submerged her head in the water. When she resurfaced she unpinned her hair and ran a liquid soap through the long strands. It was hard not to picture Spot as she studied her curls. He loved her hair. There was never a time they were together when his ink stained fingers weren't twirling a strand.

_Spot…_

Annabelle quickly finished washing. She'd planned on taking a long bath, but in actuality it was only about ten minutes long. She suddenly had the overwhelming desire to do something…anything. To be active. She walked into her room and put on her dress. After drying her hair she began stripping her bed. A maid entered her room right before she was finished.

"Oh, miss, I'm so sorry. I had thought you would be longer in the bath," the maid said with a curtsy.

"Don't worry yourself about it, Jane," Annabelle said as she ripped the sheet from the bed. "I finished early. Can you help me carry these to the laundry room?" Jane, the maid, nodded and the two of them carried the large bundle of sheets and blankets down the steps, through the kitchen, to the large washing room in the back of the house.

"Let me take those from you Miss," Jane said and began stuffing the cream colored sheets into the wooden basin with warm water.

"Thank you Jane," Annabelle said politely. While we're at it, let's strip down the bedding from the guest rooms and have them washed as well. In fact, gather the staff together in the dining room before you continue with the laundry. And have Mr. Long and the head of the stables be there as well. I want to speak to everyone." Jane curtsied and ran off to quickly gather the staff.

Annabelle walked back into the kitchen and located the menu booklet on the counter inside the door. She pulled the pencil from the binding and began rewriting it. She used a piece of paper from the back of the booklet and used it to make a checklist of everything she wanted done.

By the time she was finished, the entire staff (save for the stable workers) was gathered in the dining room, including Mr. and Mrs. Long.

"Annabelle," Mrs. Long said, "what is this all about? I thought you had confined yourself to your room?" Mr. Long placed a hand on his sister's shoulder.

"Perhaps, if you were to listen, you would discover answers to your questions," Mr. Long suggested. Annabelle offered him a smile as Mr. Long looked at Mr. Long in shock.

"I understand this is rather unorthodox," Annabelle said as she stood at the far end of the room. There were nine maids, a head cook with three sou-chefs, fifteen stable boys who were being represented by Mr. Long and a man named Mr. Dameron, plus Mrs. Long total. "I've decided to take a more active role in the order of the household. From now on, you report to me directly. If I am unavailable, you will take matters up with Mrs. Long who will act as regent in my absence. Understood?" Everyone nodded and muttered their understanding. "Alright, let's begin with today's tasks," Annabelle began. "I want every room in this house redone:

_Spot…_

Annabelle shook her head and began reading the list she'd made. "For starters the bedrooms. Each room will be stripped of its linens. This includes drapery, table cloths, rugs, and bedding. It will be washed, stitching redone if necessary, and then put back. I want the floors scrubbed, wooden fixtures polished, and widows cleaned. I'll have Jane and Margaret take the four guest rooms, Abigail and Eliza you have my chambers, Mrs. Longs, and the halls. Megan and Doris I want you to take the dining room linens. Betsy, Madeline, Anne, and Constance you will be helping in the study."

_Spot…_

"Cook, I want you and your staff to completely scrub down the kitchen. Top to bottom, understand? Prepare some sandwiches for lunch and cold soup for dinner. I'll be reworking the menu for the week, so Thomas, if you could be ready to go to market."

_Spot…_

"Mr. Long, you and Mr. Dameron will make sure the stables are spotless. Ill be by tomorrow evening and I expect them to be well kempt. The horses groomed, hay stalls changed, water basins emptied, scrubbed, and refilled. The coaches, as well, should be cleaned. If you need extra hands, send word tomorrow and I'll send a maid or two. Any questions?" When no one raised any, Annabelle dismissed them. Mr. Long hung back a moment and the look on his face made Annabelle's eyes fill with tears. It was a look of approval, of pride. It was look a father would give his daughter.

"Annabelle," Mrs. Long said as she approached. Mr. Long bowed his head and left the room. "May I ask what has inspired this overwhelming sense of duty?"

"This is _my_ house, Mrs. Long," Annabelle said defensively. "It is _my_ job to run it now. Do you have a problem with that?" Mrs. Long shook her head. "Alright then. I need you to oversee the housework. Make sure the maids aren't cutting any corners. I'll be working with the maids downstairs. You see that the upstairs and the kitchen are being tended too." Annabelle handed her a copy of the checklist before leaving the room.

X

Annabelle was sitting at the desk in the study three hours later. She had a tin of polish to her left and a box of silverware in front of her. As she was polishing a spoon, Mrs. Long entered the room and walked directly up to Annabelle.

"The maids are finished with the linens for the bedrooms, they are awaiting your inspection," she said flatly. Annabelle set the spoon and rag down and stood. She gathered the booklet, which had become her partner in crime, and followed Mrs. Long upstairs.

"The linens look nice," Annabelle observed as she stepped into the first guest room. "The windows need to be washed again. Make sure the maids get in the outside too. There _is_ a fire escape they can stand on. Plus, I want planters in each window. There's a hot house in town you can visit. Have the floors been washed?"

"Yes, Betsy and Jane washed them while the linens were drying. We can have them done again…" Mrs. Long said quickly.

"No that's alright, they look nice. I do, however, want the doorknobs polished. We'll have Constance and Doris do that," Annabelle instructed.

"Constance and Doris have gone into town to purchase the new table linens that you ordered. I can have them do it when they return," Mrs. Long said. Annabelle opened her booklet and scanned her own notes.

"Oh yes…I forgot. Well then, who's available?" Annabelle glanced over her task chart quickly. "Perhaps Margaret…no, I'll have her go into town and order the flowers. No matter, I'll do it myself. Bring up the polish if you will, and when Megan is finished cleaning the crystal can you have her finish the silverware?"

"Yes ma'am," Mrs. Long said and bristled from the room. Annabelle had no compassion for the woman. She had every right to take charge of her own household. Besides it was keeping her mind off of Spot.

_Spot…_

Annabelle threw herself on the floor in frustration. That had been happening all day. Every time she had successfully stopped thinking about Spot, something would remind her of him.

Despite her best efforts to distract her with the household, she couldn't keep her thoughts from roaming to Spot. When she had torn through her wardrobe to have her clothing washed, she had found her yellow and white dress crumpled on the floor. It still smelled like the dirty rooftop.

_Spot…_  
When she'd reorganized the study, she'd found several old newspapers that had been used to line the drawers. One of them had been the report of the Newsie strike one year prior.

_Spot…_

At one point, Annabelle had gone to the wash bins out back and began helping the maids hang the linens. When she stood on a chair to hand the bedspread over the wire, she had pulled her dress around her knees to keep from stepping on the hem. Her eyes darted to the small scar on her knee. It was all that was left of the scrape she'd received the first night she met Spot on the bridge.

_Spot_…

Then it didn't help that she had insisted the fire escape be cleaned as well. Just glancing at her window filled her mind with images of him climbing through the window. At one point her heart had fluttered painfully in her chest when she saw someone outside her window. Upon closer inspection she saw that it had only been Eliza.

_Spot…_

Annabelle was now sitting on the floor in the study polishing the doorknob. It was late in the evening. Dinner had already been served. She hadn't eaten. She didn't dare stop her cleaning frenzy for anything. Not that it mattered. Her mind had settled on Spot. Her salty tears were mixing with the varnish as she scrubbed the handle.

Annabelle was doing the best she could not to make any noise. Mrs. Long was on the other side of the room finishing the polishing of the silverware. She had been carefully studying Annabelle all day.

There was something grand about her. She had taken on such a confident air. Annabelle had never been one to make decisions for herself. From the time she had been a child until quite recently, Annabelle had been entirely passive about her life. Quiet and reserved. But now…she was an entirely different person.

Though, at this moment, she sat on the floor with her feet gathered on one side. Mrs. Long could hear her soft sobs. She wasn't sure why Annabelle was crying, but whatever it was, she was sure it had inspired her fevered cleaning. It undoubtedly came from a desire to have order in her life. To have control over something. This only meant that Annabelle had lost control over something important to her. Perhaps it was the return of Mr. Winchester.

Mrs. Long sighed to herself. _That's it_. She thought to herself. _Annabelle is nervous for the wedding. Perhaps she is unsure of Mr. Winchester's feelings. She is young… maybe Annabelle should wait until she's older to marry. Then again, being eighteen with no father or husband would surely make her social outcast among her party .Poor girl, all she wants is love._

"_**Be brave little one. Make a wish for each sad little tear. Hold your head up though no one is near Someone's waiting for you. Don't cry little one. There'll be a smile where a frown use to be You'll be part of the love that you see. Someone's waiting for you.**_" Mrs. Long stood and crossed to Annabelle.

"Miss? I think it would be best if you went to bed now. We can continue tomorrow." Annabelle tried to discreetly wipe her tears away. She stood with Mrs. Longs help and nodded before silently leaving the room "_**Always keep a little prayer in your pocket and you're sure to see the light. Soon there'll be joy and happiness and your little world will be bright Have faith little one 'Til your hopes and your wishes come true. You must try to be brave little one. Someone's waiting to love you.**_"

Annabelle sat in the windowsill in her room. It had started to rain again. Annabelle sniffled before climbing back inside. After a moment's hesitation, she closed and locked the window before slipping under the freshly cleaned linens on her bed.

_Spot…_

**A/N 'Someone's waiting for you' from Rescuers (best movie EVER). Hope this chapter gave a little insight into Mrs. Long's character.**


	18. Slipping Away

**A/N I love my readers. That's all…Spot's singing part is in BOLD.**

Spot groaned as he rolled onto his side. White hot pain shot up his side and he struggled to breath. His eyes cracked open. It felt as though someone had rubbed sand under his eyelids.

His haggard coughing must have alerted whoever was in the room, because a moment later Spot felt someone sit on the bed next to him. Having closed his eyes again, he was unsure of who it was. A feathery light touch brushed against his cheek and a cool washcloth was placed over his eyes. He coughed again.

"Shh, it's ok, I'm here now." His mind was clouded. Thinking felt more like trying to run through knee deep mud. The feminine words were undistinguishable to him, but the soothing tone calmed him. _Annabelle._ It had to be Annabelle.

"What…What are you doing here..."_Annabelle?_ His voice was raw and his throat was unbearably dry. Spot couldn't tell when he was speaking aloud or in his head. "I thought you would never come back…" _to me_… "I didn't mean what I said…" _you are my world…_"I love you…" _Annabelle_…

"I know darling," the gentle voice said and Spot felt a gentle kiss to his lips. "Rest now." Spot couldn't have argued if he'd tried. The pain shooting up his side intensified so severely that he blacked out.

X

"No, no, no, no, no!" Annabelle ranted in a raised voice. Betsy was standing in front of Annabelle in the dining room enduring the verbal bashing. "I said I wanted rose _colored_ linens not rose _stitched_ linens. Take them back!" Annabelle flung the white tablecloth with small rosebuds stitched on the edges on the table and watched as Betsy quickly gathered it and ran from the room. She sighed to herself as she collapsed into a chair. Two days of tyrannical dictating had only accomplished a freakishly clean house and the suffering of a permanent bad mood.

"Here are the flowers you wanted for the parlor," Margaret said as she entered the room carrying a wooden box filled with soft pink lilies.

"Good, take them to the kitchen and have them arranged nicely," Annabelle ordered. Margaret curtsied before bustling from the room. No sooner had the young maid disappeared around the corner than did Mrs. Long appear in her place.

"Here you are," she said and set a booklet on the table in front of Annabelle. "Since you've decided to take more initiative in your organizing, here are the color palettes I have prepared." Annabelle flipped the cover of the booklet open and the first page had four square shaped pieces of cloth pinned to the parchment heavy paper. One was a sage green, another was a creamy yellow, and the third was white.

"What are these for? I hadn't thought of completely redoing the house…" Annabelle trailed off as she flipped the page. There was a sketch of a beautiful wedding dress followed by a bridesmaid dress in the sage green color. Annabelle closed the weighty book and slid it away from her.

"Oh come now, the wedding is in three weeks. How am I supposed to prepare when you won't settle down and select the particulars?" Mrs. Long asked in a snippy voice.

"I don't want to marry James," Annabelle said quietly. "I don't love him. I will never love him. Cancel the wedding."

"Annabelle, don't be ridiculous. Of course you love Mr. Winchester. What's not to love, he's a sensible, well mannered young man with lots of potential. He'll give you a good home."

"I said cancel the wedding!" Annabelle screamed and stormed from the room. Mrs. Long sat in shock. Annabelle was acting positively…irrational.

X

Annabelle had barricaded herself in the study as soon as the dinner plates had been cleared. She was furiously scrubbing a candleholder. Her fingers were raw and bright red with the vigorous polishing. Delicate tears splashed on the back of her hand as she poured more polish from the large bottle onto the rag she held.

The numbness that came with immersing herself in hectic cleaning had faded. Somehow, the overwhelming sensation of having control over her life had ended with the taking over her household.

The last three days had helped her repress her emotions, but there were only so many things to clean. This was her fifth time polishing the same candleholders. Yet somehow, they still seemed dirty.

"Damnit!" Annabelle cursed and slammed the candleholder on the desk. She'd been scrubbing so hard the tarnish had begun to chip and peel away from the silver.

"If you ask me, you could be putting your fingers to better use," came an arrogant droll. Annabelle looked up in surprise. James was standing in the doorway. He stepped into the room and Mr. Doyle slinked in after him. Annabelle furrowed her brow as she noted a large bruise on Mr. Doyle's cheek. "Why don't you play me a song, Annabelle?" James asked. Annabelle stood and hid her hands behind her back.

"I don't feel much like playing this evening James," she answered. "I wasn't aware you had an invitation for tonight."

"Mrs. Long was good enough to call on me, seeing as you seem so out of spirit." James walked toward the desk Annabelle stood behind and wrapped his long fingers around the neck of the brandy bottle.

"I see," Annabelle responded. She was letting her foul mood give her the confidence to be rude. "Well then I will go and find Mrs. Long. I'm sure she would be more than happy to entertain you for the evening. I shall be retiring early." Annabelle walked around the desk and made for the door, but Mr. Doyle stepped in her path. "Excuse me, sir," she said in anything but a polite voice.

"What Annabelle? Aren't you happy to see me?" Annabelle turned around to face him and James was casually sitting on the corner of the desk. Her stomach churned with revulsion.

"Quite frankly James I'd rather watch a dog chew on his own vomit than see you sitting their sipping brandy." The look that came over James' face made her want to laugh, but she resisted. Instead, she turned on her heel and pushed her way past Mr. Doyle into the hall. She made it to the base of the staircase before she felt a strong hand grab her arm. Her breath escaped her in a foul swoop ad her back slammed into the wall. James stood directly in front of her, his eyes bulging with rage.

"You smarmy little witch. Do you think you can talk to me that way?" James hissed. Annabelle tried to pull her arm away, but he only gripped harder.

"Excuse me, Miss." All three heads turned and saw Mr. Long standing just inside the front door. James released Annabelle and stepped away from her. She took the opportunity to slip away from him and she stood next to Mr. Long who protectively placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's late, I think it best if Miss Danvers retired for the evening," Mr. Long said pointedly. James looked as though her were trying to think of a way to argue. He let a low sigh escape him before hiding his cruel glare behind a polite, yet forced, smile.

"Of course. Annabelle needs her rest. We have wedding plans to go over tomorrow." Mr. Doyle handed James his hat and the two men walked the rest of the hall and stepped out the door Mr. Long was holding open for them. "I'll see you tomorrow Annabelle," James said with a sharp stare. Mr. Long shut the door before Annabelle could even respond. She let out a sigh of relief and Mr. Long placed both of his hands on her shoulders.

"Are you alright?" he inquired. Annabelle nodded, but her eyes were still brimming with tears. "Tell me once and for all," Mr. Long said in a frighteningly serious tone, "has Mr. Winchester ever hit you?" Annabelle could only nod in response. Mr. Long immediately pulled her into a tight embrace and a rush of emotion overcame her. "There, there, Annabelle," he said and wiped the tears from under her eyes. "Tomorrow, when Mr. Winchester comes over, we will sit down with him and call this wedding off."

"But…" Annabelle began. "Will he listen? Mrs. Long didn't even want to listen when I told her to call off the wedding. She was the one who invited him over tonight." Mr. Long held her face with one of his large, wrinkled hands.

"You let me take care of my sister. She may seem all bristles and thorns, but under all of that, she has a very genuine heart. I will speak with her in the morning." Annabelle couldn't help her tears. Hearing Mr. Long stand up for her was overwhelming. Help had finally come. He hugged her tightly again and Annabelle let herself melt into his protective embrace. "Sleep now. All will be brighter in the morning."

"Thank you Mr. Long." She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek before trudging up the stairs to her room. She changed quickly and sank into the comfort of her bed. Before falling asleep she stared out the window and caught a glimpse of the starry sky.

X

Spot carefully pushed himself up. The boys had left for the day and the Lodging house was eerily quiet. He pulled the covers off the bed and let his feet fall to the wooden floor. He groaned as he stood on shaky legs. His whole body was stiff and sore. Sore from the beating and stiff from spending too much time laying in the same position.

He trekked to the bathroom and steadied himself by placing his hands on either side of one of the sinks. He chuckled at his own reflection. Left eye was still bruised and there was a small cut on his eyebrow. His bottom lip was swollen from being split open and the lump on his temple had begun to turn yellow and green.

The rest of his body didn't look much better. His entire right side was an awkward shade of purple and his left knee was swollen to the size of a baseball.

Spot turned the faucet on one of the newly installed bathtubs and let it fill with steaming water. He stripped and let his aching body ease into the smooth water. His muscles instantly began to relax.

_Annabelle…_

"**I have to block out thoughts of you so I don't lose my head. They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed. Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I'm alone: playing pictures in my head that make an alley feel like home. There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain. An ounce of peace is all I want for you. Will you never call again? And will you never say that you love me just to put it in my face? And will you never try to reach me? It is I that wanted space.**"

He stayed like that for an hour. His head resting on the back of the tub, his body submerged up to his chin. It wasn't until the water began to grow cold that he decided he should get out.

"**Hate me today. Hate me tomorrow. Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you. Hate me in ways, yeah, ways hard to swallow. Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you. Hate me today. Hate me tomorrow. Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you. Hate me in ways, yeah, ways hard to swallow. Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you.**"

He struggled to lift his own weight as his arms hurt so badly. The water had turned brownish red from the caked on dirt and mud. He pulled the stopper out of the drain and tied a towel around his waist. Spot stopped in his tracks as he entered the bedroom. Laura was sitting on the edge of his bed starring at him.

"What are you doin here?" he asked. Laura stood and more than inappropriately starred at him. Her eyes were ravaging his exposed skin. There may have been a time in his life when he would have seized the opportunity, but at this moment, it only nauseated him.

"I've been here every day, don't you remember?" The look on Spot's face told her that he clearly didn't. "You've been sleeping for days now. I've been taking care of you." Spot moved past her to his trunk and pulled out a fresh set of clothing. "You must be feeling better."

"Obviously," he said sarcastically. Spot stepped into his trousers and pulled them up using the towel to keep his modesty. He began hooking his suspenders on when he felt her hand on his back. "What?" he asked as he turned to face her. She was standing uncomfortably close.

"Don't you remember?" she asked in a whisper. "When I was taking care of you…you told me you loved me, that you were happy I came back." Spot furrowed his brow and searched the recesses of his mind. He dreamt of Annabelle. He'd dreamt that she had come and been taking care of him. He'd apologized for what he'd done, told her he loved her, and even asked her to stay with him.

"Don't flatter yaself," Spot said moving past Laura to his trunk again. "I was dreamin of someone else." The color in Laura's face drained.

"That can't be…it was me! You were talking to me. I've been here talking care of you, proving that I still love you!" Laura nearly yelled.

"The only person ya love is yaself, Laura. Now once and for all, get…lost." He fixed her with an unwavering stare. Her jaw was set and her eyes were bulging.

"If I leave now…I'm not coming back. Do you hear me Spot! I won't come back!" Spot walked directly up to her.

"Good," he said firmly. Laura stomped her foot and pushed him out of her way. She stopped at the door and glared at Spot.

"I'm too good for you anyway." And then she was gone. His heart thumped painfully. He had hoped his dream was real…that Annabelle had come to see him. It was pointless to hope. He was getting everything he deserved.

Spot stood on the fire escape and watched Laura stomping down the sidewalk. She turned a corner and was out of sight. He never saw her again.

He climbed to the roof and collapsed against the ledge. His thoughts went back to Annabelle.

"**And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave. Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I had made. And like a baby boy I never was a man, until I saw your grey eyes cry and I held your face in my hand. And then I fell down yelling "Make it go away!" Just make a smile come back and shine just like it used to be and then she whispered "How can you do this to me?"**

"**Hate me today. Hate me tomorrow. Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you. Hate me in ways, yeah, ways hard to swallow. Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you. Hate me today. Hate me tomorrow. Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you. Hate me in ways, yeah, ways hard to swallow. Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you…for you…for you…for you.**

"**If you're sleeping, are you dreaming, if you're dreaming are you dreaming of me. I can't believe you actually picked me…**"

X

Annabelle timidly watched from the top step as Mrs. Long opened the front door. James and Mr. Doyle greeted her. Mrs. Long led them into the dining room and a moment later, Mr. Long stepped through the front door.

Annabelle walked quickly to greet him. He smiled warmly to her, but his eyes held little joy. He must have been nervous too, because his face was pale and he kept wiping his mouth with a handkerchief.

She wrapped her arm around his as they entered the dining room. The other three were already seated, but the two men stood as Annabelle entered.

"Mr. Long," Mrs. Long said in surprise. "I didn't know you were joining us." Mr. Long pulled a chair out for Annabelle and she sat. Mr. Long took the chair to her left and the two sat across from Mr. Doyle and James.

"I invited him, Mrs. Long. There is a delicate matter that the five of us need to discuss." Mr. Long placed a hand over hers and she nodded to him. "After lunch."

No one responded to her comment. In fact, no one spoke through the entire meal. Annabelle kept her eyes on the plate in front of her as she studied the soup with great intensity. Her appetite still had not returned and it showed no sign of returning soon.

The room was silent. It left Annabelle alone with her thoughts. After today she would be free of James. Then what? What purpose did she have for her life? What passion did she have in her life that was worth pursuing? It was amazing how quickly life turned meaningless when the one important thing had gone…

_Spot…_

Her thoughts were interrupted as the maid came in to clear the dishes. Mr. Long was more than likely in the same state of mind she was, because he hadn't touched his food either.

"There now," Mrs. Long said and folded her hands in her lap. "That was a fine meal. Now what was it you two wanted to speak of? You seem rather frazzled with secrecy these days Annabelle."

"It is a simple matter," Mr. Long said and cleared his throat. "Annabelle and Mr. Winchester will _not_ be getting married." It took a moment for the comment to sink in. As soon as it had, James opened his mouth and let out a loud laugh.

"What a joke," he said and continued his obnoxious laughter. "Of course Annabelle and I will be getting married. The wedding is in three weeks. Invitations have been sent out."

"Now listen to me young man," Mr. Long said boldly. "I have seen a side of you that has made you untrustworthy. Annabelle is like a daughter to me and I won't have a man like you in charge of providing for her. It is still my job to protect her and I see now that she is in greatest need of protection from you."

"Mr. Long may I have a word with you." It wasn't a question, Mrs. Long was demanding. She stood and waited impatiently by the door. Mr. Long gave Annabelle a small smile before standing and leaving the room. It wasn't until Annabelle heard the door click shut that she realized she was being left alone in the room with James and Mr. Doyle.

James immediately flocked to Annabelle. She tried to stand, but he pushed her back down. He grabbed her by the chin and forced her face to his.

"What is this foolishness?" he spat venomously. "You would do well not to defy me Annabelle. If you think that my hand only reaches you, you're wrong. I have it in my power to harm all your loved ones. Do you understand me?" Annabelle whimpered as his grip grew tighter. James raised his hand to strike her, but before the blow could be sent, he was stopped.

"Take your hands off her!" Mr. Long yelled from the doorway. James jumped backward and Mr. Long took two long strides over to Annabelle. She stood and let Mr. Long shield her from James's view. Mrs. Long entered the room a moment later with a furrowed brow.

"What's going on?" Mrs. Long asked as she stood next to Annabelle. Mr. Long looked furious. He stormed up to James and grabbed him by the collar. "Hubert!" Mrs. Long shrieked as she saw Mr. Long ball his right hand into a fist. What happened next happened so quickly it moved in slow motion.

Mr. Long raised his hand to strike James, who turned his face away. Then Mr. Doyle grabbed Mr. Long's arm to keep him from swinging, but he pulled it away. Mr. Long clutched a hand to his chest and his other landed on the table.

Then he coughed. His knees buckled and he fell forward. The table cloth was ripped from the table as Mr. Long fell. Mr. Doyle attempted to catch him but he only managed to slow his fall. Color drained from the room.

Mrs. Long screamed and ran to her brother who lay on his back. A choking groan lodged in his throat. Annabelle stared at Mrs. Long as she started to scream something at her. However, Annabelle couldn't hear any words. Sound had gone mute. Mr. Doyle ran past Annabelle from the room and he began calling for help in the hallway.

Annabelle could feel her legs carrying her forward, but James met her halfway. He grabbed her around the waist and tried to pull her from the room. She struggled against him. She needed to see Mr. Long. To see what was happening. Something was wrong. What was wrong? Why had he fallen? Then in a crashing wave, everything flooded Annabelle. Sounds. Colors. Pain.

"Hubert, Hubert, look at me!" Mrs. Long was yelling. She had one of Mr. Long's hands in hers and her other hand was holding his face.

"Let me go," Annabelle said and struggled against James' grip. "Let me go, let me go!" she screamed and he released her. She fell to her knees and crawled over to Mr. Long. He was coughing roughly and there was a sticky red spot on his lower lip. Annabelle pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his mouth. It was then she saw the red spots all over his handkerchief. Some were brownish, others were still wet.

"Hubert, Hubert, please look at me," Mrs. Long was begging. Her voice had gone shrill and it cracked suspiciously.

"Mr. Long?" Annabelle asked. His brown eyes rolled over to look at her and he slowly lifted his hand to her face. She clutched it. When had she started crying? His lips curled into a soft smile. This only made Annabelle cry harder. He took in a sharp, wheezing, breath… and then exhaled. His next inhalation never came.

_My, you're my angel in disguise. You look at me with gentle eyes. My, you're my angel in disguise. You saved my from that one last cry…_

**A/N 'Hate Me' Blue October. I cut out the second verse. Last line in italics is from Pillar's 'Angel in Disguise'.**


	19. Faith

**A/N First set of **_italics_ **is a song in narrative. The second set of **_italics_ **is not a song. You'll see.**

The sun was high. It was going to be another beautiful day. But the sun may as well have been black for all Spot cared. There was nothing beautiful about life anymore…nothing.

_Love can be a many splendored thing. Can't deny the joy it brings: a dozen roses, diamond rings, dreams for sale and fairy tales. It'll make you hear a symphony and you just want the world to see, but like a drug that makes you blind, it'll fool ya every time.  
_He didn't deserve love and here he was trying to pick up his life after his second broken heart. He should have called it quits when Laura left. He should have guarded his heart better.

_The trouble with love is it can tear you up inside. Make your heart believe a lie. It's stronger than your pride. The trouble with love is it doesn't care how fast you fall and you can't refuse the call see, you got no say at all._

_Now I was once a fool, it's true. I played the game by all the rules, but now my world's a deeper blue. I'm sadder, but I'm wiser too. I swore I'd never love again. I swore my heart would never mend. Said love wasn't worth the pain, but then I hear it call my name._

Spot didn't turn his head when he heard someone clamoring up the fire escape. He didn't turn when he heard shoes on gravel, and he didn't turn when Switch leaned against the side of the building next to him.

"Ya gatta stop this Spot," Switch said in a gentle but commanding tone. "All this mopin around aint doin no one any good. Least of all you. Ya haven't sold in a week and ya bruises aint getting much better. Have ya thought about seein a doctor?"

"No," Spot answered shortly. He felt like shit. That was no secret. His body was healing slower than usual. Spot wasn't surprised though. He had no desire to get better. In fact, he wished he would get worse. It made sense to him that he should look outside the way he felt inside.

"Come on Spot, if ya aint ganna do it for yaself then do it for us. Some a the boys have been talkin… we aint nothin without our leader." Switch was practically begging Spot now. "Ya gatta snap out of this."

_The trouble with love is it can tear you up inside. Make your heart believe a lie. It's stronger than your pride. The trouble with love is it doesn't care how fast you fall and you can't refuse the call see, you got no say at all._

_Every time I turn around I think I've got it all figured out. My heart keeps callin' and I keep on fallin' over and over again. This sad story always ends the same. Me standin' in the pourin' rain. It seems no matter what I do it tears my heart in two._

"I aint ya leader no more Switch…I aint nobody. Just leave me alone." Spot turned away from Switch and limped to the other side of the rooftop. Switch slammed his fist on the railing and cursed. He needed help.

_The trouble with love is it can tear you up inside. Make your heart believe a lie. It's stronger than your pride. The trouble with love is it doesn't care how fast you fall and you can't refuse the call see, you got no say at all_

X

The funeral had been brief yet it felt like it had lasted days. Annabelle sat in the front row of the church starring at the black casket. In so many ways it felt as though she had died with Mr. Long. Dangerous and frightening thoughts ran through her mind while the minister committed Mr. Long's spirit to heaven.

What would her funeral be like? Who would come…would Spot come? What would the minister say about her life?...

…_the church was clouded in a black haze. A single black casket rest on the dais. It was surrounded by black roses with black leaves and black stems. The minister stood behind the pulpit wearing a black a ministers robe._

"Annabelle Danvers was a pitiful child. Orphaned as a young child she lived her days silently conforming to the wishes of her nanny turned guardian. Though she showed an enormous amount of potential, she submitted herself to the will of others. Quiet. Reserved. Annabelle lived as a shell of a human being, no spark of life in her…and yet…among her last days there was something special, daresay, beautiful about her."

_Annabelle could feel herself walking down the center aisle of the church. The seats to her left and right were crammed with people donned in black garments. As she walked past them they turned to look at her, but she didn't recognize any faces. Her eyes were locked onto the casket…the open casket._

"Her eyes shone with something lovely. Her mannerisms changed and became that of a happy young woman. The joy in her heart abounded from her. She acted as a woman who had a secret…"

_One step. Another step. Annabelle held a single white rose in her hand. She stood directly over the casket and her eyes flickered to the body that lay inside. Pale white cheeks. Lifeless brown hair. Hands folded over the chest of a black dress._

"Indeed, Annabelle Danvers acted as a woman who was in love. A woman who was very much in love."

_As Annabelle went to lay the flower over her own dead body, the white rose began to wilt. From the center of the flower blood began to bubble. It poured over the white petals and stained them. It dripped onto her hand and from her hand, droplets splashed onto the pale face of her corpse. Suddenly, the dead body's hand shot up and latched onto her wrist. Then, the lifeless eyes opened and instead of grey they were hollow black eyes. The white rose in Annabelle's hand suddenly began to wilt. Annabelle screamed. It echoed off the walls of the church and the stain glass windows that so accurately portrayed the birth, the crucifixion, and the resurrection of Christ shattered. Sprays of colored glass crashed to the floor below…save for one. _

_The large window that lay on the other side of the casket. A large brown cross with a golden crown around the top. Above the crown a red heart. _

_"You killed me," her body said. "You killed love." Then the final window broke. Splitting directly down the center, cracking the heart in two…_

Annabelle shot up in bed. She gulped down several mouthfuls of breath. Cold sweat formed beads on her forehead and dripped down her neck. Her room was dark, but a small trickle of light streamed through the slit in her curtains.

She began to cry. Silently. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. The funeral had been eight days ago. All her nights were the same. Restless sleep resulting in night terrors. It was enough to drive someone insane.

There was a soft rapping on the door. Then Mrs. Long entered. Her hair was pulled into its usual bun, but it was sloppily done. Her face was pale and there were large, dark circles under her eyes.

"Good, you're awake," she said in a monotone voice. "You have a nine o'clock fitting for your bridal gown then Father Marshall will be over for dinner this evening."

"I don't want to marry James," Annabelle said quietly. She looked up at Mrs. Long who took a deep breath and let it out.

"I am still your legal guardian Annabelle. You will obey me in this matter. Now get dressed." Then she left the room. Annabelle found an all new contempt for Mrs. Long. Since Mr. Long's death she had been even more cruel to her. No sympathy. No emotion whatsoever. Mrs. Long hadn't even cried at the funeral…

Annabelle put on a black dress and walked to her vanity mirror. No need to style her hair. There was a new addition to her desktop items: a picture of Mr. Long standing in front of the coach. She'd requested it be brought from the study to her room. Somehow, it helped her grieving.

X

Annabelle stood on a footstool while a seamstress marked the hem of her dress. There was nothing wrong with the garment. In every way it was beautiful, fashionable, stylish, and flattering. Yet it may as well be a garment for a prisoner in Annabelle's eyes. Mrs. Long stood near the door to the shop and studied every line of the dress making sure it was absolutely perfect.

"Good, it will do. Have it hemmed and delivered to the house," Mrs. Long instructed. Annabelle stepped off the bench and began taking the dress off.

"Yes ma'am, and have you selected a broach yet?" Annabelle droned out their conversation. She removed the wedding dress with no caution and kicked it off before pulling her own dress back on.

"Come Annabelle," Mrs. Long said and placed a hand on her shoulder. They silently walked from the shop into the open air of the busy New York streets. Their coach was waiting out front and as Annabelle went to step in, the door to the shop opened again and the seamstress ran out.

"Ma'am, we forgot the veil," the seamstress said in distress. Mrs. Long sighed and walked back over to the seamstress. Annabelle stood on the sidewalk and watched the people passing by. She'd once thought the city to be beautiful…but now…

"Annabelle?" it was a familiar voice. Annabelle turned and there, walking towards her, was Sarah. Annabelle ran to her friend and threw her arms around her. "Annabelle? Are you alright? What is it?" Annabelle pulled away and looked over her shoulder. Mrs. Long looked as though she were finishing her conversation.

"Sarah, can you come to my house tonight?" Annabelle asked. Sarah furrowed her brow and glanced at Mrs. Long.

"I suppose I could come over for dinner…but where have you been? I haven't seen you in weeks." Annabelle shook her head.

"No, after dinner. I can't be seen with you. Please, tonight, midnight. Can you meet me at my house?" The urgent look in Annabelle's eyes had her worried.

"Alright, I'll have David bring me." Annabelle nodded and stepped away from her. Sarah looked more than confused.

"You have to go now. Mrs. Long can't see you." It was Sarah's turn to nod. She quickly disappeared into the crowd of people and Annabelle prayed that Sarah was able to make it.

"Come Annabelle," Mrs. Long said and ushered Annabelle into the coach.

X

Father Marshall sat across from Annabelle at the dinner table. He was providing merry company, but that only proved to annoy Annabelle even more. She was eager to get through the meal. The sooner midnight arrived, the closer Annabelle felt to salvation.

"And you can imagine what a sight that was," Father Marshall said with a laugh. "The whole basin of holy water spilled all over the floor. Father Douglas saw it as a catastrophe; I on the other hand, chose to look at it as a…well, a consecration of ground." Father Marshall chuckled again and looked from Annabelle to Mrs. Long. Both of them had their eyes transfixed on their plates in front of them. "Annabelle, have you thought of attending confession?"

"No," Annabelle answered. Mrs. Long gave her a sharp look, but Annabelle wasn't paying any attention.

"I think that's a great idea. Annabelle will be in for confession tomorrow afternoon." Annabelle went to argue, but couldn't find the words. She slammed her napkin on the table and stormed from the room. "Annabelle!" Mrs. Long called. "That girl! She's been very troubled these last few weeks. Confession will do her some good. It will get her out of the house at least."

"I see," Father Marshall said as he stared after Annabelle. "Perhaps I should speak with her privately tomorrow. She does seem rather distressed."

"I only wonder if your constitution is strong enough to handle her."

X

Sarah cautiously stood in front of Annabelle's house. David was standing next to her and he let out a loud yawn.

"Will you keep quiet?" Sarah scolded and slapped his arm. "Annabelle was adamant about not being seen."

"Well, where is she then? Two people standing on the street in the middle of the night isn't exactly inconspicuous," David said.

"She'll be here…wait, did you hear that?" the two siblings turned to the alley and from the shadows Annabelle emerged. She waved them over and they quickly joined her. "Annabelle, what's going on?"

"I'll explain everything, but you have to promise not to tell Spot." David and Sarah exchanged glances and Sarah pulled Annabelle farther into the alley. "Promise me," Annabelle pleaded.

"Alright, I promise. What's going on, you're really scaring me." Sarah could see how pale Annabelle had become. In front of her eyes, Annabelle began to shake and her eyes welled up with tears.

"Oh Sarah, it's been so awful…Mr. Long…he died of consumption last week." Sarah wrapped her arms around her friend and held her for a moment. "James returned from Chicago and it's been horrible. I can't stay here Sarah. I just want to die." Annabelle wept openly and Sarah stroked her hair in a comforting way.

"Don't talk like that," Sarah said and wiped the tears from Annabelle's cheeks. "Start from the beginning and tell me everything." And Annabelle did. She told Sarah everything from the fight with Spot to James' return. Then Mr. Long's death and the veil of depression that had fallen over her life. The whole story sounded worse when Annabelle said it aloud.

"I don't know what to do Sarah," Annabelle said hopelessly. "I can't marry James…I just can't." Sarah nodded her understanding.

"You should really let me tell Jack about this. He's much better at scheming up plans than I am. I'm not entirely sure what to do."

"No, you can't tell Jack. He'll tell Spot and I don't want him knowing…I don't ever want to see him again. I hate him." Sarah hardly believed her. It was one of those things that Annabelle just needed to say. Sarah looked to David who was still standing at the end of the alley. He nodded to her signaling that he'd heard everything. She waved him over.

"The first thing Jack would tell you is that you need to gain an ally on the inside. Someone who's word Mrs. Long can't argue. Any ideas?" Annabelle thought about it for a moment.

"Father Marshall. I go to confession tomorrow at St. Johns. I'll tell him everything and pray he understands," Annabelle said with hopeful realization.

"Well, if you're going to pray it may as well be in a church," David teased. Sarah slapped his arm and he rubbed it with a flinch.

"Are you going to be alright?" Sarah inquired. Annabelle knew she was referring to Spot. The rawness of her heart made tears spring to her eyes.

"I just need to move on…Spot's with someone better now. As long as he's happy…" Sarah made to argue, but Annabelle held her hand up. "Please don't," she said in a soft whisper. "I can't think about him right now. Between him and Mr. Long…I just can't take it. It hurts too much to talk about right now." Sarah nodded her understanding.

"I'll meet you outside St. Johns tomorrow. We can go over a more definite plan after you speak with the Father." The two girls hugged one last time before they parted ways: Annabelle back to her room and Sarah and David back to their home.

X

Annabelle felt infinitely better after speaking with Sarah and David. The prospect of hope had returned to her grim situation. The prospect of sabotaging the wedding by means of the Father who would be performing the service made Annabelle want to laugh. She took cares in dressing for the day. Donning herself in a pale blue dress with white cuffed sleeves and empire waist, she even pinned her curls atop her head and put on a matching hat.

Hopefully by the time she met Sarah outside the church she would have a solid plan set in motion. The idea made her anxious to get moving.

She breezed through a quick brunch and waited eagerly in the back of the carriage for Mrs. Long to finish speaking with the coach driver. And then they were off. Mrs. Long stood on the sidewalk waiting for the coach to disappear out of sight before returning to the house.

St. Johns Cathedral was one of the largest in the city. It was a three tiered building; the forward most was a dome ceiling with stain glass window. The large windows on either side of the building were also ornately stained with classic depictions of the Christ, his disciples, and the Mother Mary.

As Annabelle entered the church, the sunlight streamed through the windows to her left and the whole sanctuary was cast into crimson light. It was an ethereal feeling in the room.

The far dais had candelabras lining the steps with maroon colored candles that were lit. A single wooden podium stood center stage and wooded pews on either side of the room created a center aisle.

Several servants of the church were walking about praying and such. Annabelle saw Father Marshall walking toward her. Could he help? Would he?

"Annabelle, my child," he said taking her hand and kissing it. "Come, let us to confession." He led her to a secluded area of the sanctuary and guided her into the wooden door. The small chamber smelled of oil and wood polish. It was dark and there was a red candle in the corner of the room. A black bible lay on the small bench and Annabelle sat down. The sound of the door through the small grate opened and she could vaguely see Father Marshall's silhouette

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned," Annabelle began. "It has been over a month since my last confession." Annabelle wished she had spent time planning what she was going to say.

"Tell me your sins my child so that the Lord may set you free of them." Father Marshall had the sort of voice that soothed her. She trusted him. How could she not.

"I have committed a terrible sin father. I have lied on numerous occasions. I have committed adultery in the eyes of the law, but mostly I ask forgiveness for the hatred that has brewed in my heart."

"Tell me," Father Marshall said. Annabelle pulled the handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her brewing tears.

"I met a boy," she began. "I fell in love with him and spent as much time with him as I could…he isn't Mr. Winchester as I'm sure you guessed. The truth is Father, I'm not sorry I loved him. Though I know it is probably wrong to God, but I loved him purely. He is not someone my caretaker would approve so I kept it secret. I lied to cover my tracks so she wouldn't grow suspicious."

"And the hatred?" he asked. Annabelle felt a new emotion dominate her. She pictured Mr. Doyle in her mind…James…Mrs. Long….Spot.

"I hate James," she said and her throat constricted. "I hate Mr. Doyle and I hate Mrs. Long and I hate Spot." Father Marshall's silence was his only prompting. "James is a wicked man, Father. He controls me through fear and only wishes to marry me for his own gain. Mr. Doyle, too, is a brutal man. I loath Mrs. Long for her apathy. She has never shown me compassion, understanding…love. Even now as her brother, my dear Mr. Long has died she acts cruelly to me…and Spot. I hate him for making me love him and then leaving me alone to die in my misery." Annabelle leaned against the wall crying openly. She hadn't imagined the talk proceeding like this, but now that it had there was no going back.

"In what way is Mr. Winchester a wicked man toward you?" Father Marshall knew Annabelle to be a sensible woman. Her hysteria was concerning him. It was unlike her to come to confession and speak only of the vices of others. This concerned him even more.

"He has hit me, Father," Annabelle said quietly. "Everyday the threat of him hitting me again has paralyzed me from calling off the wedding. I have tried to tell Mrs. Long that I don't want to marry him, but she won't stop the wedding. I don't know what to do."

"And you've entrusted me with the information in hopes that I could help?" he inquired. Annabelle was silent. The sliding door closed and Annabelle feared he was angry. The door to the confessional opened and the Father stepped in shutting the door behind him. "I'm glad you came to me," he said and knelt in front of her. "I admit this is unorthodox, but as I see it, in the Lord's eyes you are as much a victim as a perpetrator."

"What should I do Father?" Annabelle asked. "I'm frightened." Father Marshall seemed to ponder the thought for a moment.

"Together, we can convince Mrs. Long, but if what you say is true I won't rest until I see Mr. Winchester exposed as the villain he is. Locked away in prison and serving for his crimes against you, but to do that we'll need proof. Can you muster some?"

"If that's all I need then I'll have to find a way," Annabelle answered. It felt good to have someone on her side. "This Saturday, come over for supper and we cans peak with Mrs. Long then…I just hope she cares." Annabelle couldn't help her bitterness toward Mrs. Long.

"My child," Father Marshall said. "I have known Mrs. Long for many years. In that time I have come to learn that… she shows her love for others in peculiar ways. And though it is improper for me to tell you the things she's said in confidence, I can assure you, she not only loves you very much but she is grieved by the loss of her brother. More than either of us could imagine. Take care in the hatred you feel for her and try to look through her eyes."

"And," Annabelle said but stopped to think her statement through, "what of my adultery against Mr. Winchester. We have been engaged for six months now and I was in love with another man."

"Did you ever love Mr. Winchester?" Annabelle shook her head 'no'. "Then in God's eyes my dear, there is only one man who has won your heart and that is not adultery by any means. And as for your lies…well," Father Marshall said with a smile, "Our Lord is a forgiving Father." Annabelle smiled and hugged Father Marshall. "Go in peace child and know that the Lord is on your side."

"Thank you," Annabelle said and felt her heart lighten. They exited the confessional chamber and he walked her to the sanctuary doors. "I will see you in a few days, Father."

"Yes, and rest easy my child, all will be right in the end." Annabelle hugged him again before leaving the church. She waited on the steps for nearly twenty minutes before Sarah arrived. Annabelle greeted her with a hug.

"How did it go?" Sarah asked. Her face was abnormally pale. It was evident that she was as worried about Annabelle as Annabelle was about herself.

"He believes me," she said in relief and Sarah visibly relaxed. "He is coming over for dinner on Saturday so we can try to convince Mrs. Long. He wants to have James arrested, but I need proof that he has been abusing me."

"James belongs in jail," Sarah exclaimed. "But…how are you going to get proof that he's been hitting you?" Annabelle had a semblance of a plan, but shrugged anyway.

"I don't know yet, but I'll think of something by Saturday." Sarah gave Annabelle a suspicious look. Annabelle had never been very good at lying, especially with people she loved.

"I don't like that look, Annabelle," Sarah said sternly. "What are you planning?" Annabelle didn't answer. Before Sarah could press her about it, another voice chimed in.

"Sarah?" It was Mrs. Long. The coach had pulled up a few paces from the front of the church and it seemed Mrs. Long had ridden along to meet Annabelle. "What a _fortunate_ accident," she said giving Annabelle a stern look. "You must dine with us again soon."

"I would like that very much, Mrs. Long, thank you," Sarah said politely. "Well, I should be going. I'm on my way to confession." Sarah smiled on last time to the two women before walking up the church steps.

"Well, let's be off, we have another fitting in town." Annabelle looked longingly after where Sarah had disappeared. She had a plan. It frightened her…but she knew it was the only way…the only way to prove that James was a monster.

**A/N 'Trouble With Love Is' by Kelly Clarkson.**


	20. Execute

**A/N Song is in **_italics_. **Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. I'm moving to Texas in a couple weeks and I have a crap load of packing to do! UHG I have like ten boxes of extra clothing that I don't want. Anyway, here we go.**

Annabelle sat nervously in the drawing room. Sarah was sitting across from her on the couch sipping tea from a porcelain teacup. Mrs. Long had insisted Sarah attend afternoon tea on Friday. Annabelle didn't object. Seeing a friendly face was welcome.

"Annabelle, why won't you tell me what's bothering you?" Sarah asked softly. Mrs. Long was in the hall talking to two of the maids and the two girls wanted to keep their private conversation…well…private. Sarah had been asking since she arrived as to why Annabelle was so pale, why she wrung her hands as she sat, and why she seemed so distracted.

"Its nothing serious," Annabelle lied. She discovered the secret to lying. Instead of looking Sarah in the eye, she concentrated on her forehead, the bridge of her nose, the spot just above her head…anywhere but her eyes. "James and Mr. Doyle are coming over for dinner tonight."

"I see," Sarah replied. "Don't worry; Father Marshall will be over tomorrow to speak with Mrs. Long, though. Have you thought of a way to prove what James has been doing?" Annabelle's eyes flew to the hour hand of the clock on the wall behind Sarah's head.

"No…no, not yet," Annabelle said flatly. Sarah set her teacup down and brushed the bangs out of her eyes. When she looked up she saw Annabelle's eyes darting away from hers.

"What's that look?" Sarah asked in an accusatory voice. Annabelle furrowed her brow. She was trying to look confused and failing. "Annabelle, what are you planning?" Before Annabelle could answer with another lie, Mrs. Long entered.

"Finished?" she asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "Sarah, the coach is waiting out front to take you home." Sarah stood as Annabelle kept her eyes on the floor. She gave her a suspicious look before walking past Mrs. Long into the hall. "Annabelle, make sure you put on your lavender dress before Mr. Winchester arrives," Mrs. Long ordered before seeing Sarah to the coach. Annabelle waited until she heard the front door close before hurrying into her room and changing as instructed.

X

Annabelle paced in her room. She'd been pacing for almost an hour. The polish on the wooden floor was beginning to dull along the path she walked. Her hands were twitching at her sides and she shook them to try and rid herself of her nerves.

"_Dear Lord, give me strength to carry on. Dear Lord, give me strength to carry on. My home may be out on the highway, Lord, I've done so much wrong, but please, give me strength to carry on."_

There was a ring from the front door. Annabelle stared at her closed bedroom door waiting for Mrs. Long to come and get her. Then she did. _Knock, knock, knock._

"Annabelle, Mr. Winchester and Mr. Doyle are here to see you," Mrs. Long called from the other side of the door.

"Alright," Annabelle answered. "I'm on my way down." With one last glance at herself in the mirror, Annabelle straightened her posture, brushed the wrinkles from her dress, and held her head high as she left her room.

"Annabelle dearest," James said as Annabelle stepped into the drawing room. She plastered on a smile and allowed James to kiss her cheek. He helped her to the couch before taking the seat next to her. Mrs. Long and Mr. Doyle were sitting across from the couple.

"How was your day at the office, James?" Annabelle asked much to the surprise of everyone.

"Rather busy, actually," James answered. "My father and I have been overseeing the cases of the workers and it seems that their paperwork has become rather sloppy. We ordered a detailed account of every case that each worker has. I've spent the last three days trying to piece together an impossible mess of files…" Annabelle stopped listening. She had intentionally asked James about himself because it was his favorite subject. He could spend hours, if not days, talking about absolutely nothing of importance.

"How interesting," Mrs. Long interjected as James paused on his story. "Annabelle and I have had a rather busy few days as well. We've been in and out of town taking care of fittings, purchasing decorations, meeting with Father Marshall. He will be here for supper tomorrow."

"How marvelous," James said with a smile. "I trust you two have made all the necessary preparations?"

"Of course, Mr. Winchester," Mrs. Long said. "I'll be stopping by the courthouse tomorrow morning to retrieve the marriage license. The church has, of course been, reserved. Annabelle and I have decided to have pink and yellow roses in the bouquet. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Ah, as long as my lovely bride is happy then of course. I fear I am hardly an expert when it comes to flowers," James said with a laugh. Annabelle was sickened by him. How he could sit there and pretend to be a nice man with pure intentions. He was the epitome of a two faced monster. Only she wasn't sure which side of him made her more ill, the monster or the mask he hid behind.

"Annabelle, why don't you get the wedding book we have started on? I'm sure James would love to see what we have prepared." Annabelle nodded and led James over to the desk. She opened the top drawer and pulled out the booklet Mrs. Long had given her two weeks prior.

"This is the dress we've chosen," Annabelle said quietly as she opened the cover and pointed to the drawing. James ran his fingers over it and grinned. "I had my last fitting yesterday."

"Simply beautiful," James murmured. He was standing too close to her. She sat at the desk and he was leaning over her to look at the book. When she looked up at him he was grinning down at her. "I'd like to see the dress."

"Perhaps after dinner I can arrange that," she said in a light voice. James' grin turned into a full smile.

"Dinner is served," Mrs. Long said and the four of them left for the dining room.

X

Annabelle had grown quiet again. The three of them, James, Mr. Doyle, and herself, were sitting in the drawing room after dinner having tea. Mrs. Long had excused herself after dinner to finish placing the food order for the next day.

Annabelle was biting her lip and nervously picking at the pages of the wedding book in her lap. She had to do something now. Now or never.

"James," Annabelle said in a lowered voice. James set his brandy glass down on the coffee table and turned to her. "Would you like to see the dress now?" she asked in as close to a flirtatious voice as she could. He grinned and nodded.

"Indeed I would," he answered. Annabelle stood and silently led James from the room. Mr. Doyle didn't follow.

Annabelle tentatively turned the knob to her room and opened the door. She could feel James enter after her and she brushed over to her wardrobe after setting the book down on her vanity table. She opened wardrobe doors and removed the wedding dress that hung neatly inside. When she turned to show James, he approached her and stood directly in front of her. His fingers trailed the silk fabric and he smiled.

"It is lovely," he said politely. A cold sweat overcame Annabelle as her nerves frayed at the edges. "I can't wait to see you in it." His eyes had grown frighteningly dark. Annabelle hated that she was in the room alone with him. Especially since he'd had more than one drink so far that night. "You should try it on for me." _What_? James stepped closer to her. "Will you try it on?"

"Right now?" Annabelle asked in shock. Is only response was to place a hand on her face and trail his thumb over her lower lip. _Dear Lord, give me strength to carry on_. "James, stop," Annabelle ordered. He didn't however. He took the dress from her and dropped it on the floor as he walked toward her. Annabelle matched each of his steps backward until she ran into the chair of her vanity table.

"Why else would you bring me up here, Annabelle?" he asked in a teasing tone. "You've become so…compliant lately and I must say I like it." Annabelle stood completely still as James swooped down on her and kissed her. Icy tears rolled down her cheeks and she discreetly felt behind her on the vanity table for something. Her hands wrapped around the book. She simultaneously sank her teeth into his bottom lip. He jumped back and, using both hands, she slammed the book across his face.

"There is a reason I brought you up here James," Annabelle said vehemently, "to tell you will _never_ see me in a wedding dress." James had stumbled backward and was clutching a hand to his bleeding lip. James lunged at her and ripped the book from her hands. Annabelle ran to the side of her bed and yanked on the string that led to the bell in the kitchen. James grabbed for Annabelle and she instinctively ran from the room. She tripped on the hem of her dress, hoever, and fell into the railing above the staircase. She turned in time to see James standing behind her with the book raised above his head.

Annabelle flinched and raised her arm to cover her face. James, instead, brought the book slamming down on the hand that still rested on the railing. Annabelle screamed as she felt the bones in her hand crack. She clutched her wounded limb to her chest, her eyes watering with the pain. James dropped the book and grabbed Annabelle by the hair near the root.

"You are mine, Annabelle, forever," he growled through clenched teeth. Then Annabelle felt herself falling. She felt a sharp pain in her left hand, then her back, then the side of her head, and then nothing. Blackness.

X

Hours later Annabelle awoke as she heard the buzz of murmuring. She hesitantly opened her eyes and saw the canopy above her bed. She turned her head to the side and saw Mrs. Long speaking with an unfamiliar character. They seemed to notice her stirring and Mrs. Long quickly came over.

"Annabelle, thank God," she said and Annabelle winced as she felt something cool and damp pressed against her head. "This is Doctor Baker. Do you remember anything?" Before she could answer, the she felt someone sit on the bed to her right. She glanced and saw James sitting there. She began to panic. She started crying and Mrs. Long pulled her head onto her lap. "Poor thing, she needs her rest," Mrs. Long said, her voice quivering. The two men slowly left the room.

"J-James," Annabelle croaked out. Her head was throbbing, even worse now that she was crying. Her eyes were burning with hot tears and her body hurt all over.

"He's gone dear, you should sleep. You had a nasty fall. Dr. Baker said you broke two of your fingers and have a bad bump on your head." Annabelle shook her head.

"No…No, he…he did this, he smashed my hand and he pushed me down the stairs, didn't you see? I rang for you." Annabelle was starting to get hysterical.

"Dear, you don't know what you're saying. Mr. Winchester loves you, he would never hurt you. Sleep, everything will seem better in the morning."

"No! No, I want him gone forever! I hate him! I hate him!" Annabelle screamed. "Please, you have to believe me." Mrs. Long pushed Annabelle back into bed and pulled the covers around her.

"Nonsense, you've hit your head and aren't thinking clearly. Father Marshall will be here for dinner tomorrow so get your rest." Mrs. Long left and Annabelle began to sob. Her plan hadn't worked. Mrs. Long hadn't come running up to her room to ask what she wanted. No one had seen James injure her. Failure. Now what?

"Spot….I want Spot, please God…please give me Spot."

X

Sarah didn't go inside after she was dropped off in front of her house by Annabelle's coach. Instead, she followed her instinct and began walking toward the Lodging House. It was a short walk and she spotted Jack with several of the other Newsies lounging around the statue of Horace Greeley.

"Heya Jack," Race said and pointed to Sarah. Jack turned and smiled as he saw her walking toward him. His smile faltered however as he saw the worried look on her face. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hers fell on his shoulders.

"What's the matta? What's wrong?" he asked and brushed the hair out of her face. She glanced over his shoulder and saw the others were watching the encounter. Jack turned and glared at them. The small group disbanded giving the couple their privacy.

"I'm worried about Annabelle and Spot," Sarah said truthfully. "We have to do something." Jack nodded, but his face was solemn.

"I know that ya concerned, but there aint a lot we can do. Spot aint exactly himself lately." It was Sarah's turn to nod.

"Neither is Annabelle…I can't tell you everything because I promised Annabelle I wouldn't, but we have to do something to help her. I'm afraid something…something bad is going to happen if we don't."

"What do you mean by 'bad'?" Jack inquired. Sarah looked away and Jack sighed. Obviously she couldn't answer the question without betraying a confidence. "Alright, I'll go see Spot tomorrow and see what I can do."

"I'm coming with you," Sarah said strongly. Jack didn't look to happy about the idea, but he didn't argue it. "Thank you, Jack," she said and kissed him. Jack smiled down at her and took her hand as he led her to rejoin the other Newsies.

**A/N 'Give Me Strength' by Eric Clapton**


	21. What About Now?

**A/N gah! Sorry it took so long. Moving SUCKS! Ok forget me and read. **

Spot wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand before placing his hat back on his head. It was going to be a horrible day. Humid. Dank. An over all wet and sticky feeling to the day. The worst kind for selling papes. Sunny days were better. More people. Hell, rainy days at least elicited pity purchases. But these were the sort of days that made you want to crawl back into bed and slip into unconsciousness.

It was a tempting thought. But the rumble in his stomach had kept him awake. He had ripped himself from the comfort of his bed and drug his worthless carcass to the distribution center, bought fifty papes, and was currently walking the docks trying to sell them off to others who were forced to be awake on such a day.

By five Spot had abandon his papes in an obliging garbage can. The mugginess in the air had finally gotten to him. He found his way to the end of the dock and pulled his shirt off over his head. After kicking his shoes off, he dove head first into the water. He resurfaced a moment later and climbed back onto the dock.

_Shadows fill an empty heart as love is fading, from all the things that we are, but are not saying. Can we see beyond the scars and make it to the dawn?_

He lay on his back and took a deep breath. He didn't move even as he felt small droplets splash on his bare chest and face. He could hear music from a local barge and drunken men loudly howling and laughing. Somehow it was comforting. Hearing Laughter.

_Change the colors of the sky and open up to the ways you made me feel alive, the ways I loved you. For all the things that never died, to make it through the night, love will find you._

Spot resisted a groan as he heard heavy footsteps on the planks of wood. The stopped just short of his head. Switch? He opened one eye and looked up.

"Kelly? What the hell are you doin here?" Spot didn't sit up. Instead he continued to lay there and enjoy the wet wood against his back.

"Though it was a nice day for a walk," Jack said with a shrug. "So ya ganna lay there all night or what?" Spot rolled his eyes and sat up. Jack tossed him his shirt and he pulled it on.

"So ya ganna tell me the real reason ya here or am I ganna have ta beat it out a' ya?" Spot said with no humor in his voice.

"Heard some rumors 'bout ya." Spot raised an eyebrow. "Hear ya aint exactly been yaself lately. Spot didn't bother to restrain his groan. He stood and began pulling his shoes on. "Look I aint tryin ta bug ya or nothin, but as ya friend I was a little…"

"What? Ya was a little what? Concerned? Geeze, a guy spends a little time alone and then the whole world comes crumblin down. Just mind ya own damn business Jack." Spot walked past him and Jack followed.

"Just comin ta check on ya. That's what friends do, _Spot_," Jack said and bit the last word to emphasize his point. Spot whirled around.

"I'm fine, _Jack_," Spot lied. "Never been bettah. In fact, I haven't thought about Annabelle in days. She was a passing phase that I'm done with now. So ya can keep ya pity and waste it on someone else." Spot turned his back on Jack and made it to the end of the dock before Jack called after him.

"Ya know," Jack said loudly. "I came because I heard ya had a pretty bad beatin… it's a wonder though…" Jack said knowingly. "Ya got the stuffin beatin out of ya and still the only pain ya can think about is Annabelle." Spot didn't bother to turn around. He'd been caught. His shoulders stiffened and he sulked off.

_What about now? What about today? What if you're making me all that I was meant to be? What if our love never went away? What if it's lost behind words we could never find? Baby, before it's too late, what about now?_

X

Annabelle felt herself slipping out of sleep. Fingers were running through her hair. It was a soothing touch and Annabelle took in a deep breath. She expected the smell of ink, paper, and a hint of musky scent…but that wasn't the case. She smelled liquor, starch, and bitter, toxic smelling cologne.

She recoiled from the hand and opened her eyes to see James sitting on the bed next to her. She instantly sat up, all traces off sleep vanishing with shock. It was morning. However the room was dark save for the small trickle of light streaming through the crack in the heavy curtains.

"Good afternoon Annabelle," James said and took her hand in his. She tried to pull it away, but he gripped tighter. "How are you feeling?" It all came back to her. Mrs. Long had insisted Annabelle lay down for a nap before Father Marshall arrived for dinner. She certainly hadn't expected to wake up seeing James towering over her.

"I feel as though I've been pushed down the stairs," she said angrily. "Now kindly release my hand and get _out_ of my room. I haven't given you permission to be in here."

"You did last night," he said coolly. "Or don't you remember?" his voice had deepened with seduction and Annabelle cringed. "Mr. Doyle was kind enough to let me know when Mrs. Long had left for the market…" he said letting his eyes trail down to her neck. "I was…_deprived_ of alone time with you last night. Now," he said taking her face in his hand, "be a good wife and kiss your husband." Annabelle used her free hand to slap James across the face. She reached for the string leading to the bell in the kitchen, but James grabbed her wrist painfully. His fingers dug into her flesh and Annabelle cried in pain.

"Let me go!" Annabelle screamed. James stood and ripped her from the bed. She collapsed on the floor and he yanked her to her feet by her wrists.

"I've had enough of this defiance Annabelle! I don't want to hurt you, but if you don't obey me I'll be forced to punish you." Instinct was starting to kick in, but Annabelle forced it back. _Plan B_. Annabelle accumulated the moisture in her mouth and spat at James. Instantaneously he backhanded her.

"I don't think you're limited intelligence is quite understanding me, James," Annabelle said as she face him squarely. "So I'll spell it out for you. I…Hate…You! And I'll never marry you. Now get out of my house!" James raised a fist to hit her again, but when she didn't flinch or recoil a sickly grin crept across his face. "What, aren't you going to hit me James?" Annabelle asked in a coaxing tone.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," he said in a calm voice. "I'm sure the bruises would make a convincing argument. I applaud your bravery, Annabelle, but I'm one step ahead of you. Nice try though." He grabbed her by the back of the neck and forced her to look up at him. "I won't forget this, Annabelle. Once we're married…you'll pay."

"I won't marry you James," Annabelle said through gritted teeth. "I'll _never_ consent to marry you." James chuckled.

"I don't need _your_ permission. I only need Mrs. Long's. And I have her eating out of the palm of my hand…and soon, you will be too. There are things I can take from you that no one will notice." He released her and Annabelle stumbled backward into the nightstand. She discreetly rang the bell and grabbed the candle from the nightstand. When James stepped toward her she smashed the candle across his face. The wax split and crumpled in her hand so she dropped it. James's eyes widened in shock, pain, and anger. Before he could lunge for her, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Annabelle yelled. The door opened and Jane stepped in. Her eyes darted from Annabelle to James then back again. "Please see Mr. Winchester to the door, Jane." James scowled, but dare not say anything. He skulked from the room and paused in the doorway to glare at her. After the door was safely shut, Annabelle collapsed to the ground her heart beating painfully in her chest.

X

Sarah jumped up when she heard the door of the Brooklyn Lodging house. She was sitting in the common room with Switch, Duke, Trick and several others. Jack had let her walk with him to the Lodging House, but when Spot had been absent he had made her stay while he went out and looked for him. Sarah was getting worried.

Spot stomped up the steps and anyone who happened to be in his direct path quickly dove out of the way so as not to invoke his wrath. Jack entered soon after. He walked directly up to Sarah and took her hand.

"Come on, we're leavin," he said and began pulling her toward the door. Switch jumped up from the couch and ran in front of Jack and Sarah.

"Hey, what happened?" he asked and Jack sighed. "Come on Jack, ya aint the only one who wants the old Spot back. What happened?"

"He don't want ta talk about it and I aint ganna make him," Jack said almost angrily. "Look," he said addressing the room of listeners, including Sarah. "I know Spot aint the way he used ta be, but he aint any different then when Laura gave him the boot. So's I suggest we's all stop tryin ta force him back and just give the man some room ta breath…he got his heart broken, ok? Let him be."

"But…" Sarah began. "What about Annabelle? They…he…we have to get them back together." There was a chorus of agreements from the Brooklyn Newsies.

"Says who? Who says Annabelle aint exactly like Laura? Huh? From what I'm seein the situation is exactly the same as last time. Annabelle hasn't made any attempts ta get back with Spot. So I say just let it go." Sarah opened her mouth to argue and Jack held a hand up. "No Sarah, I aint talkin him inta nothin. And I certainly aint ganna contribute ta him gettin hurt some more…not again. Now let's go." Srah gave Switch one last apologetic look before she let Jack pull her from the building.

X

Annabelle sighed heavily as she sat on the stairs waiting for Father Marshall to arrive. She couldn't wait any longer. She was about to explode. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door.

Annabelle leapt up and threw the door open. She smiled as Father Marshall stepped inside. He closed his umbrella and shook the rain off his coat before handing it to Annabelle.

"Good evening, child," Father Marshall greeted kindly. "How have things been?" before Annabelle could answer, Mrs. Long had joined them.

"Welcome, Father, it's lovely to see you again," Mrs. Long greeted. "Shall we go into the dining room?" Father Marshall and Annabelle exchanged looks before following Mrs. Long into the dining room.

It was a frighteningly long meal. Annabelle couldn't eat. Father Marshall and Mrs. Long continued in polite conversation. Annabelle was nervously tapping her fingers on the table as the main course was being cleared before dessert. She tuned out the their voices. She heard nothing save for the clock on the wall. Its rhythmic ticking and her tapping fingers blended with her pulse that beat in her ears. _Tick, tap, beat, tick, tap, beat. Tick. Tap. Beat. Tick. Tap. Beat. Tick. Tap…_

"Enough!" Annabelle screamed. The two adults were instantly silent and looked at Annabelle in shock. "I can't take it anymore! Mrs. Long, I asked Father Marshall here because I have enlisted his help in sabotaging the wedding." Annabelle took several deep breaths. A stunned silence fell over the room.

"I think what Miss Danvers is trying to say, is that she…I mean we have reason to reconsider the marriage between herself and Mr. Winchester," Father Marshall reasoned. Mrs. Long stared at Father Marshall for a long moment.

"You can't be serious, Annabelle, how could you?" she didn't sound angry, to which Annabelle was grateful, but she sounded almost pained. She would have preferred angry. She could handle angry. "Father Marshall, be reasonable. The union makes perfect sense!"

"While I agree that it would be an advantageous marriage, there are certain qualities that Mr. Winchester has that I cannot, in good faith, overlook. Rage, for one. Annabelle has informed that in the privacy of their secret time, Mr. Winchester has displayed behavior unbecoming of a gentleman." When Mrs. Long raised her eyebrows as if to inquire 'what sort of behavior', Father Marshall looked to Annabelle. She nodded so he continued. "Abuse of a terrible kind. Emotional…and physical." Another stunned silence. "Now while I firmly believe that a woman, a wife, is to submit to her husband's authority, I feel that in no way should it be permitted by God or man that a husband should beat his wife."

"I can't believe this," Mrs. Long said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I simply cannot believe this is happening." Annabelle let out a sigh of relief…too soon. "I cannot believe that, Annabelle, that you, would lie to a man of the church!"

"I didn't lie!" Annabelle shouted in shock. "I'm telling the truth! Why would I lie about this?" Annabelle stood up and slammed her hands on the table. "Why can't you believe me? You've known me my whole life!"

"Yes, I have. And over the past few weeks you've been acting like a felon. It's all because of that shameful Newsie you've fallen in with. You won't marry Mr. Winchester because you've been canoodling with that…that _trash_."

"He's not trash!" Annabelle hollered. "He's the best person I've ever known! And at least _he_ knows how to love someone and that's more than I can say for you!"

"Ladies, ladies please! Enough of this behavior, it's not helping anyone." Annabelle was shaking with rage. It wouldn't have mattered if Mrs. Long personally saw James bashing Annabelle's skull in with a candlestick, she wouldn't believe anything. "Let's remain calm. Annabelle, you were tasked to find evidence to help convince Mrs. Long, have you acquired any…any at all?"

"He threw me down the stairs yesterday and _she_ still won't believe me. Then, then this morning he waits until Mrs. Long is gone and breaks into the house…Jane, Jane saw him! Jane!" the poor maid quickly bustled from the kitchen with shock and confusion on her face. "Tell them, tell them what you saw this morning!" Annabelle ordered.

"Go on child, tell nothing but the truth," Father Marshall encouraged. Jane surveyed the scene momentarily. Annabelle was standing, her cheeks flushed and her hands shaking. Mrs. Long, too, was looking frazzled and the good Father was trying to smile pleasantly but failing horribly.

"I…I heard the bell ring to Miss Danvers room. I thought she might want some tea or something after her nap. When I heard her call allowing me into the room I saw Mr. Winchester standing next to her bed and Miss Danvers leaning against the nightstand in her dressing garments…I don't know how he got in. I didn't let him…no one did that I know of."

"Did you see Mr. Winchester strike Miss Danvers at all?" Father Marshall asked urgently. Jane shook her head. Annabelle covered her face with her hands as she forced her angry tears from her eyes. Pain. She looked down at her wrist. Bruises? Bruises!

"Look!" Annabelle cried as she pulled the sleeves of her dress up farther. "This is where he grabbed me. Can't you see the fingerprints?" Mrs. Long rushed around the table and took Annabelle's hand in hers. She delicately studied the small but dark bruises. Then, she placed her own fingers over them. As she placed them over the bruises, it fit perfectly the way someone would painfully grab and pull someone's wrist. Then Mrs. Long gasped. "See? Can't you see now, I'm not lying!"

"I think this is evidence enough," Father Marshall said solemnly. "Shall I help make arrangements to cancel the wedding?" Another silence. "Mrs. Long?"

"Yes, yes of course. There's much to do. I'll…I'll get started right away." Mrs. Long quickly left the room without anther word. No sympathetic looks. No apology. Nothing but the cold of her back.

"How can she be so cold?" Annabelle asked as she collapsed into her chair. Father Marshall walked to her and took her hand in his.

"Dear Annabelle," he said soothingly. "Not all of us handle grief with tears or even anger. Some of us choose to hide the way we feel in hopes of becoming strong enough to handle tragedies. You were successful in convincing Mrs. Long. The wedding is off. You should be happy." Annabelle forced a smile.

"Thank you Father Marshall, I appreciate all your help, truly." Father Marshall kissed the back of her hand and offered a comforting smile.

"I'll go and speak with Mrs. Long now. Rest easy my child," Father Marshall said before leaving the room. Annabelle took a deep breath and let it out. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her chest. Breathing was easier. For now.

X

Why was it so hard to breathe? Sure, it was humid…but not _that_ humid. Spot was pacing on the roof of the Lodging House kicking at the random stones that had found their way up there.

_The sun is breaking in your eyes to start a new day. This broken heart can still survive with a touch of your grace. Shadows fade into the light, I am by your side, where love will find you._

He was attempting at being honest with himself, but all it was doing was making him more angry. More depressed. Any way he looked at the situation, things weren't looking good. He couldn't get Annabelle from his mind and trying to pretend like he had forgotten her wasn't fooling anyone.

_What about now? What about today? What if you're making me all that I was meant to be? What if our love never went away? What if it's lost behind words we could never find? Baby, before it's too late, what about now?_

Maybe he should leave? Leave New York behind. The thought of never being with Annabelle was enough to break him, but the thought that she would soon be married to another man was killing him. He didn't want to risk seeing her with her new husband. New York may be a large city, but hell, it was his job to talk to every person he passed. It was only a matter of time.

_What about now? What about today? What if you're making me all that I was meant to be? What if our love never went away? What if it's lost behind words we could never find? Baby, before it's too late, baby, before it's too late, baby, before it's too late, what about now?_

He couldn't leave. There was nowhere to go. Hopeless was a new feeling to him. Whenever the night grew too dark, he would always wait for the sunrise. But now? The sun was dark in his eyes. Breathing was difficult. It was almost like he was…suffocating.

_What about now?_

**A/N 'What About Now' by Dougherty **


	22. Revelation

**A/N The Next chapter may take some time. I'm flying to Texas tomorrow morning. First **_italics_ **is not a song. Second set of **_italics_ **is a song in narrative.**

"Yes, this looks good, thank you Cook," Annabelle said and handed the menu back to him. "Make sure Thomas collects the letters before be leaves." The Cook nodded and Annabelle left the kitchen. "Oh, Eliza," she said stopping the maid who was on her way to the laundry room. "Bring up the satin linens for my room."

"Yes Miss," Eliza said and Annabelle held the door to the kitchen open for her. Annabelle stepped into the study and walked over to the desk. Gathered on one side was a stack of cards slipped inside envelopes, on the other side were blank cards. Annabelle sat, flipped open a blank card, uncapped her pen, and wrote:

_Dear Guest,_

_I'm saddened and dismayed to inform you that the union between Miss Annabelle Danvers and Mr. James Winchester will not happen as was planned. Unseen events have occurred that prevent the marriage. However, the two wish to send you their gratitude and genuine appreciation for your support. All gift registration will be returned upon request._

_Sincerely,_

_The Danvers Household._

She signed it, slipped it into the preaddressed envelope, and set it on the stack to her left before grabbing another card. The smile never leaving her face.

X

Sarah positioned the basket of laundry onto one hip and stepped onto the fire escape. The window into was open and she slipped inside the apartment. Her mother was stirring something on the stove, her father was reading the paper, and David and Les were still on the roof.

"A letter came for you today, Sarah," Mayer said as he looked over the top of his paper at his only daughter. Sarah set the laundry on a chair and picked up the pile of letters. After filing through them, she found the one addressed to her.

"Oh, it's from Annabelle," she said and tore open the letter. She opened the card, removed the folded piece of paper from inside it, and read the card quickly. "Thank God!" Sarah exclaimed.

"What is it dear?" Esther asked and Sarah handed her the card and watched as her mother read it. "Is this the same Annabelle?"

"Yes," Sarah said nodding. Her mother smiled and gave her daughter a hug. "I just can't believe it."

"I told you everything would be alright," Esther said and handed Mayer the card. He too read it and smiled. "What's that?" Esther asked as she saw her daughter reading the enclosed letter.

"An invitation to stay the night at Annabelle's tomorrow night, can I go?" Sarah asked with hopeful eyes.

"I don't see why not," Mayer answered. "I'm sure you two girls have a lot to talk about." Sarah squealed her delight and ran into her room to pack an overnight bag.

X

Annabelle threw the door open before Sarah even had a chance to knock. The two girls instantly hugged and began laughing.

"You have to tell me everything!" Sarah demanded with a broad smile. Annabelle nodded, her eyes sparkling with happiness. That was something Sarah had missed the last few times she'd seen her dear friend. Joy.

"David was right," Annabelle began as the two girls headed up to Annabelle's room. "After speaking with Father Marshall, he was true to his word. When he came for dinner we spoke with Mrs. Long and she couldn't argue both of us. The wedding is off! Off, off, off, off, off! Oh I've never loved a word so much as the word 'off'!" Annabelle was still laughing as she fell onto her bed. Sarah was happy for her friend, there was no denying that, but there was also no denying the large bruises on her friend's wrists. The short sleeve dress Annabelle was wearing exposed the fingertip sized bruises perfectly.

"Annabelle," Sarah said softly, "are you sure that James is gone…you know, for good? He doesn't sound like the type of man to give up so easily."

"Oh I'm sure he's positively livid right now, but there is no way he will enter this house again. The staff has been put on alert that he is to never set foot on the grounds again." Sarah sighed and Annabelle sat up. "Enough about James, I'm tired of thinking about him. How are you? How are things with your family? Jack? The Manhattan Newsies?" Sarah couldn't help the smile. Her friend was back.

"I'm doing well. My parents are doing great, so are David and Les. The Newsies are well last time I saw them…" Annabelle furrowed her brow as Sarah dropped eye contact. "Jack and I aren't doing so well…we fought the other day and I haven't spoken to him since."

"What happened?" Annabelle inquired. Sarah leaned against the poster of the bed and began twisting a strand of hair around her index finger.

"We went to Brooklyn the other day and…let's just say Jack and I didn't exactly see eye-to-eye on a certain matter," Sarah answered vaguely.

"It was about Spot and I wasn't it?" Sarah only nodded. "Why would there be a reason for you two to argue when the situation doesn't involve either of you?"

"Jack is one of Spot's best friends, I'm your best friend, like it or not that sort of means we're involved whether we like it or not. Jack just doesn't want to see things from anyone else's perspective. He gets an idea in his head and refuses to change his mind no matter how overwhelming the evidence is stacked against him!" Sarah took a deep breath. She was beginning to lose her temper. "Don't be upset Annabelle; it's not your fault Jack and I are arguing. We both have very strong opinions and neither one of us is going to back down. That's why we're fighting."

"But the topic of the argument is about me and Spot; I can't help but feel a little guilty." A moment of silence passed. Annabelle was picking at the cuticles on her fingernails and Sarah was studying the hem of her dress intently. "Just for curiosity's sake…what are your opinions on the matter?"

"I think you and Spot should get back together," Sarah said bluntly. She wasn't sure why she was so keen on being blatantly honest this day: maybe it was that she was tired of Jack not listening to her, or perhaps it was because she was so passionate that she was right, or, in the end, maybe it was because it was a Friday evening. Who knew? "I know what Spot did was wrong, but if you could have seen him since he lost you…he's devastated, worse than devastated. He's downright pathetically depressed." Annabelle nodded silently.

"What does Jack think?" Sarah hesitated this time. She climbed onto the bed and sat next to Annabelle. "Jack thinks I'm like Laura…doesn't he?"

"Yes," Sarah answered, but this time with less fervor than before. "Jack has a tendency to stand up for a Newsie before an outsider. Its nothing personal, really. Jack doesn't know everything, if he did I'm almost certain he would think differently."

"I've had a lot of time to think over the past couple weeks since Spot and I broke it off." Annabelle stood and began aimlessly walking around her room. "Even after everything Spot did…you know I still stood up for him the other day?" Annabelle said with a confused smile on her face. "When Mrs. Long blamed Spot for my acting differently, I still defended him. I was confused as to why I would do that since I swore to hate him for kissing another girl. I've been thinking about it intently for the last few nights and the conclusion I came to was that, even though I'm still angry with him and I'm still very hurt…I haven't stopped loving him. In fact, I think I love him more now than I did before."

"I don't understand," Sarah said with bewilderment. Annabelle laughed to herself and leaned against the poster of the bed much like Sarah had only a few minutes prior.

"In some ways I think I am like Laura," Annabelle said honestly. "I never told Spot the complete truth. When I was with him I was using him to forget about my life here. I didn't do it intentionally, but I still did. Since being back here without Spot as my shield, I've had to face a lot of things that I tried to hide from. Things I've been hiding from for years. But now, I can stand on my own. I've taken over the household, I'm running my own life, and I broke off my engagement."

"That's great Annabelle," Sarah said fondly. She was beginning to see Annabelle in a new light. She wasn't the homely, scared, meek girl she had first met. It was a complete transformation. "But, what do you mean by loving Spot more now than before?"

"Spot showed me what I could be when I stood on my own two feet. He gave me courage. When we first broke off, I went back to who I used to be. I thought I couldn't do it alone, but I can. I did. Now that I'm my own person I see what I had with Spot. How rare that was. Despite everything…I still love him. He's my first love. I don't think I will ever be able to forget that."

"Why don't you tell him that?" Sarah asked in desperation. "Annabelle if you could see how sorry he is for what he's done…"

"No," Annabelle said strongly. "Spot hurt me more than I can ever describe. If he wants to apologize…well, he knows where I live. But I'm not going to go running back to him. If he's really, truly, sorry for what he's done, then he'll come to me. And I'll be here…waiting."

"But, Annabelle…what if he doesn't come because he thinks you won't take him back?" Annabelle pondered the question for a moment.

"Just because someone won't forgive you doesn't mean you shouldn't express how sorry you are for wronging them. I've forgiven Spot, but he still needs to apologize. If he's only going to apologize because he knows I'll forgive him, then he isn't truly sorry. Someone who is sorry isn't reliant on forgiveness. They are sincerely remorseful. So please, Sarah, promise me that you won't say anything to Spot. Please? Promise me."

"Alright…I guess I can understand that," Sarah said in a defeated tone. Things weren't looking good for the couple reuniting. With Spot in his current state of mind, he wasn't about to do anything except berate himself until the day he died.

X

James poured himself another glass of brandy as he read over the card for the millionth time. He was pacing in front of the fireplace, his trusted friend Mr. Doyle sat on the couch next to him. James stopped and laughed.

"Is there something I missed, sir?" Mr. Doyle asked. He was fuming. All this work to ensure the union between the two had come to nothing. It was over, finished. James crumpled the card in his hand and let it fall to the ground.

"Don't you find this all amusing, Mr. Doyle!" James asked with a slur in his voice. "That after everything she still summed up the defiance to cancel the wedding. Its hilarious, truly, that she thinks this will be the end of me."

"Well, isn't it?" Mr. Doyle asked. James glowered. He threw his glass into the fireplace and the alcohol made the flames burn brighter for a moment.

"Never!" James yelled. "I will not lose! Annabelle is mine whether she likes it or not. And if I can't have her then no one will!" James pulled his jacket open and revealed a six caliber gun in his belt. "Tomorrow we go into town and make preparations for a private wedding. Something discreet. She'll have no choice but to agree." The maniacal and wild look in James' eyes, briefly, frightened even Mr. Doyle.

X

Annabelle sat at her vanity mirror starring at her candlelit reflection. Her newly found realizations had left her feeling proud, yet vacant. Inside she felt stronger, braver, and more valuable. But still…somehow, it all meant nothing.

_In my head I have dreams, I have visions of many things. Questions longings in my mind. Pictures fill my head. I feel so trapped instead but trapped doesn't seem so bad 'cause you are here. It doesn't mean anything without you here with me. And I can try to justify but I still need you here with me._

With Spot she had briefly touched something that was addicting. Love. The companionship of someone who made her everything she wanted to be. Now, that she was without it, there was a hole in her heart that couldn't be filled with anything else.

_In my heart I had hope built on dreams I'll never know. Answers to love left behind. Visions filled my head. . I feel so trapped instead but trapped doesn't seem so bad 'cause you are near._

Nothing could satisfy the emptiness. It was like tasting crystal water and now being left with mud. Such a difference. It left a yearning and an ache in her heart to have that love back. But it wasn't her choice to make…it was Spot's.

_I can't do anything without you. You give me strength to do anything I can't be everything I try to. You saved me from the everything I couldn't be. It doesn't mean anything without You here with me._

Was he done running wild? Was he finished with his temporary fixes? Did he truly love Annabelle the way he had once claimed? Only time could tell…but at moments like this, time seemed to be the worst enemy of the heart. Time. And disappointment.

_And I can try to justify but I still need you here with me. It doesn't mean anything without you here with me. 'Cause after all is said and done I still need you here with me. Need you here with me. I need You here with me_.

**A/N 'Here With Me' by Plumb**


	23. Plan B is Always Better

**A/N Ok, you wanna know my level of dedication? I am currently sitting on a freakin airplane. I hate flying. I hate it, hate it, hate it, hate it!! We're at freakin 39,000 feet. This sucks! Lol, I'm trying to keep my mind busy so I'm writing more chapters. You should all love me!**

"Promise to come over next weekend and stay the night at my house?" Sarah asked. Annabelle nodded and they hugged one last time at the door.

"Alright, and you promise to make up with Jack, I won't have you arguing about me," Annabelle demanded.

"How many times do I have to tell you, we aren't arguing about you." Annabelle gave Sarah a stern look and Sarah chuckled. "Alright, I'll go speak with him as soon as I can."

"Good," Annabelle said smiling. She waved to Sarah as the coach sped off down the street. She waited until it was completely out of sight before walking back inside. Mrs. Long was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her.

"Here are the preparations for the day," Mrs. Long said monotonously. Annabelle took the clipboard from Mrs. Long and scanned it.

"Good," Annabelle said distractedly as she read over it. "Let's make sure that the stables are ready for inspection. I'll be there this evening to make sure the new colts are being tended to properly. After lunch I want to see all the property deeds. We have all that land in the west and I plan to put it to good use. I'm thinking of opening a boarding school on the Vermont property, what do you think of that Mrs. Long?" Annabelle looked up at her caretaker who was overcoming surprise.

"That…that is a fine idea, Annabelle," Mrs. Long said sincerely. Annabelle nodded. She still harbored resentment toward the woman, but Father Marshall's words kept coming back to her every time she began to get angry: '_we all express our pain in different ways…_

"Good, then let's see to it that Mayer Jacobs is put in charge of that," Annabelle concluded. "Now, for next week. I think we should start making contributions to the local Orphanages and Lodging Houses. Have the maids take inventory of the household belongings that are being kept in storage and how often they are used."

X

Sarah was pulling the laundry down from the line Saturday evening when she felt familiar arms wrap around her from behind. She smiled and placed her hands over Jack's.

"I was going to come and see you tomorrow," she said leaning back into his embrace. "I'm sorry for not trying to see your point of view…"

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry," Jack interrupted. "I wasn't thinkin. Annabelle is ya friend and I was trashin her. Ya had every right ta be upset with me. Forgive me?" Sarah turned around in Jack's arms and smiled.

"Don't I always?" Jack gave her a lopsided smile and kissed her. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"Don't I always?" Jack asked in a mocking tone of voice. Sarah laughed and rolled her eyes. "Did ya have a good time with Annabelle?" When Sarah raised both eyebrows it was Jack's turn to laugh. "Ya, I got my connections."

"I did have a good time. The wedding is off, Annabelle canceled it." Jack nodded his approval. "Look," Sarah said in all seriousness. "I'm not going to ask you to try and convince Spot into getting back together with Annabelle, but something has to be done about his depression. It's not healthy."

"Ya, I been thinkin about that. Spot and his boys are comin over tomorrow night for poker night and I think I got a way ta snap him out of this."

"Good," Sarah said and kissed Jack. "Come on, supper must be getting cold."

X

"So you see," James continued. He and Mr. Doyle were sitting in the office of Father Peter from St. Michael's church after supper on Saturday. "My bride and I want something small. Only the two of us and our guest Mr. Doyle as a witness. I have already procured the marriage license. We only need to perform the ceremony."

"Well it is a little unorthodox, but if it is what the two of you want, who am I to deny your plans. When would you like the ceremony performed?"

"Next Friday, in the evening," James answered. Father Peter stroked his chin as he pondered it. James snapped his fingers and Mr. Doyle set a wad of bills on the desk. "I understand its last minute, but I can assume that this will cover all last minute _expenses_." Father Peter picked up the money and counted it.

"Indeed it will, and may I thank you on behalf of the Church for your _charitable_ contribution. How does one week from today at nine accommodate you?"

"Perfect."

X

Annabelle was sitting curled up in an armchair in the library late Saturday night. She had fallen asleep while reading a book when the sound of the door opening awoke her. A moment later, Mrs. Long entered wearing her nightdress and carrying a candle that barely gave off enough light to see.

Mrs. Long must not have seen Annabelle because she walked right past the chair over to the desk. It was then Annabelle saw the small leather book in Mrs. Long's left hand.

Her caretaker sat and set the candle to her left. She opened the book and began writing in it. Annabelle rubbed her eyes. It was a small movement, so small Annabelle was worried she was still asleep, but then she saw it again. Mrs. Long lifted a wrinkled hand to her eyes and, using the back of her hand, wiped them. Then she heard it. A small sniffle…then another one. Mrs. Long was crying.

Annabelle watched in bewilderment as Mrs. Long furiously scratched away in the booklet. Suddenly there was a loud crash in the hallway. Mrs. Long stood so quickly from her seat that the chair was almost knocked over.

_**I watched you sit alone. I watched you cry your eyes out. Now tell me what you've done. Is it so bad that I would shut you out and leave you here alone. Yes I saw what you did, I was right there with you. **_

Mrs. Long flew from around the desk and into the hallway to see where the clamoring had come from. Annabelle listened and heard voices from the hall.

"What's going on?... I know that you're supposed to box those candleholders but… you're going to wake the whole household!... well pick them up…No…It's alright Thomas….I'll go see if…was woken up…"

As the footsteps faded Annabelle stood dropping the blanket that had been covering her lap to the floor. She walked over to the desk and fingered the page of the book. No. Diary? No. Journal. Annabelle looked at the doorway. She shouldn't. But her curiosity was the best and the worst of her.

_I dreamt of my dear Hubert again tonight. We were children again and we were playing in the sand along the coast of Maine. Its been so long since I've been home. I would dearly love to see it again, but I just couldn't bring myself to leave Annabelle. _

_I don't understand what has come over her. She's so different. At first I thought it was horrible, but now I see she has become a strong woman. Despite all my negativities. _

_Why didn't I believe her when she told me about Mr. Winchester? How could I not see it? Annabelle is the closest thing to a daughter I could ever have and I almost let her enter into a marriage based on abuse. I don't deserve to be in her life._

_**I won't let you sink, no, I forgive you. Phobic. Don't be. Grace means a little more freedom. Forgive. Don't be. Love means room to breathe.**_

_Hubert was always better at empathizing with people than I was. Oh my dear brother, what am I going to do without you? I miss you so much. I'm so very, very sorry for the prude I have become. Hubert, you were always my laughter. Even when we were kids playing on the seashore. You taught me to smile and now that you are gone…what will I do?_

_Perhaps I should resign from my position. Annabelle is better off without me. I am not bringing any happiness to the household. I just can't seem to fight this misery alone. I never was much of a fighter. Always business and propriety. And now look at me… An old woman all alone. And poor Annabelle. What kind of example am I?_

Annabelle looked up when she heard a gasp from the doorway. Mrs. Long was standing there clutching a hand to her chest. She looked so different. She no longer looked surely, prudish, and cruel. No. Instead, she looked like a lonely old woman who had lost her family and her identity. Annabelle felt a rush of emotion overcome her.

"Mrs. Long," Annabelle said. Tears were blurring her vision. Annabelle walked around the desk and right up to Mrs. Long who still had red, puffy eyes. "I miss him too."  
Annabelle wrapped her arms around Mrs. Long and cried into her shoulder. Mrs. Long hesitated before embracing Annabelle. Her own tears were falling. "I love you Mrs. Long."

_**I've watched you grow. I've stood in your shadow I've never walked away. I hung the stars and I hold your heart so don't ever be afraid. Yes I know when you breathe, and I feel when you need. I won't let you sink. Phobic. Don't be. Grace means a little more freedom. Forgive. Don't be. Love means room to breathe.**_

"Oh child," Mrs. Long said weeping. "I love you too." The two woman clutched one another as they lamented. They sank down to the floor in a sitting position holding one another. In that moment they felt more like family than ever before.

_**I won't let you sink. Phobic. Don't be. Grace means a little more freedom. Phobic. Don't be. Love means room to breathe.**_

X

"Heya Spot can I deal you in?" Racetrack asked as the Brooklyn leader walked past the table. He had a bottle of alcohol in one hand and the other was stuffed in his trouser pocket.

"Nah," Spot answered. Poker night was in full swing and had been for nearly two hours. Spot had spent the entire night sitting in the corner of the room watching everyone else have the time of their lives. He'd risen only twice. Once to use the restroom, the second time to get another drink.

"I'm out boys," Jack said and set his cards down. The others at the table, Race, Kid Blink, Switch, Sarah, Boxy, David, and Trick, exchanged a knowing glances.

"I liked Spot better when he was with Annabelle," Race said loudly. This drew Spot's attention from where he stood at the other end of the room.

"Ya me too," Kid Blink said, "I think he lost his personality when he lost his girl." The others at the table laughed. Sarah, who was sitting next to David scoffed and opened her mouth to berate them all on their rudeness when David clamped a hand over her mouth. Jack turned to Sarah and winked. She nodded and pushed David's hand away.

"Too bad Spot's here, I'd like to invite Annabelle over but the last thing I want is having to deal with Spot getting all _emotional_," Sarah added. The others looked at her in shock before playing along and chorusing their agreements. The next sound they heard was the front door of the Lodging House slam shut. "Your plan better work," Sarah said to Jack as she stood next to him. "I hated to do that to him."

"We all did," Switch added. Jack gave Sarah's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Go fix him, Jack," Switch encouraged.

"Don't worry boys, have my plans ever gone wrong?" Jack didn't wait for an answer before following after Spot.

"Someone should remind him what happened to his brilliant rally plan last year," Race said sarcastically and Kid elbowed him.

Spot was standing in the alley next to the lodging house shooting marbles at a row of beer bottles along a wooden crate. He released a single marble and it grazed the edge of the bottle. As he released another marble it missed the bottle entirely and crashed against the wall of the building.

"I think ya gettin better," Jack said from the entrance of the alley. Spot growled and stuffed his slingshot back into his pocket. "Don't stop on account 'a me, I hear practice make perfect an ya almost there."

"Would ya shut the hell up," Spot barked. "Ya don't think I hear all 'a ya talkin about me in there? I aint stupid Jack."

"Coulda fooled me," Jack teased. Spot glared at Jack who instinctively held both hands up. "Alright, I get it. And for what it's worth, I think ya better off without Annabelle."

"I don't wanna talk about it," Spot said as he leaned against the wall of the alley. Jack stepped in farther and leaned against the opposite wall as was their usual stance.

"That's alright, I don't wanna talk about it either," Jack said with a casual tone. The events were seeming all too familiar to their previous conversation, but this time Jack was prepared. He had a plan. "I mean, we both saw it comin. Annabelle was ganna take off sooner or later. I know I don't got all the details but, as far as I'm concerned, good riddins."

"Ya…good riddins," Spot said halfheartedly. "I mean, ya know," he rambled pathetically. "She's better off without someone like me." Spot was fishing for encouragement. Surely his best friend would affirm that he wasn't a complete waste of space.

"Too true, Spot," Jack said as he shrugged. "I don't know what Annabelle was thinkin messing around with a guy like you. I mean, that's like goin from five star dinin to eating outa the garbage. She musta been crazy."

"That's a little harsh," Spot said defensively. "Are ya seriously comparin me ta garbage?" Spot's temper was beginning to rise. Perfect.

"Ya know, ya right, ya aint even garbage. Ya like the gutter after the sewer has flooded. I mean, Annabelle is like royalty compared to you. The fact that she was interested is the funniest thing I ever heard. I'll be laughin for years."

"What do ya mean by that? Lots a girls are interested in me!" Spot snapped. Jack had to force himself not to smile at how riled up his friend was becoming.

"Hey, take it easy, I'm on your side," Jack said as he held up both hands. "I guess I didn't see it from your point 'a view. Annabelle, I mean she's gatta be some sort of tramp. Here she was foolin around with you when she had a fiancé back home. It's no wonder ya cheated on her. It was like revenge or somthin. "

"I wasn't tryin ta cheat," Spot muttered. Jack raised his eyebrows. "And Annabelle wasn't really ya know, messin around with me. I mean I knew she had a fiancé and still went along with it, so it was kinda both of our faults."

"Damn, so ya sayin Annabelle was innocent in all this?" Jack said loudly. Before Spot could open his mouth to argue, Jack cut him off. "Christ you _are_ a prick Spot. Ya had it all with Annabelle, I mean the real deal and then you go and mess it all up! Ha, ya got no brains in that head 'a yours. First Laura and then ya do it again with Annabelle. Ya should learn ta listen to me more, Spotty."

"Ya well, I'm beatin myself up about it enough, I don't need ya doin it too. If ya wanna say _I told ya so_ then get the hell over it. I'm not in the mood to hear it. I feel like shit as it is," Spot snapped. Jack pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"Shit don't even begin to describe ya," Jack said in his casual voice again. "Ya scum, Spot. I'm glad Annabelle is done with ya, 'cause they're aint no way in hell you'll ever deserve someone like her. She's better off without you. I mean, now she's free to go and marry someone more suitable. Someone with class. Someone important. Someone with money. And boy Spot, ya aint got none of those."

"Would ya shut the hell up!" Spot yelled. The casual way Jack was talking infuriated him. His best friend was sitting there trashing him as though it were second nature.

"I aint even gotten started," Jack said as he popped his knuckles. "You're just a street rat bum, what were ya thinkin messin around with a girl like her. She's high class and you're trash, little better than a bum." Spot grabbed Jack by the collar and raised his fist.

"I am not!" He yelled. "Ya think just 'cause a guy don't have money that he's worthless? What the hell do you know! Annabelle was lucky ta have a guy like me! Ya don't know what the hell ya talking about!" Jack grinned and Spot furrowed his brow.

"Bout time ya said so," Jack said taking the cigarette from his mouth. "I was startin ta think I was ganna have ta soak ya," Jack said and his grin broke into a smile. Spot released Jack and took a step backward; the words he had spoken were beginning to sink in.

"Ya…ya planned this?" Spot asked in shock. Jack chuckled and stomped out his cigarette. "I don't get it."

"Well Spot, the only person that ya ever listen to is yaself so me and the boys figured we better get you ta start talkin soon. Feel better?" Spot sighed and slid down the wall until he was sitting. He pulled his hat off and ran a hand through his hair.

"Christ Jack, I don't know what I'm doin anymore. Nothin makes sense without Annabelle. I used to have it all figured out. Wake up, carry the banner, pocket a few coins, do it all again tomorrow. But now, it's like the world is upside down. Things that used to be so simple are all fucked up. Like breathin. It's like I can't breathe anymore."

"I know it's hard now Spot, but it'll get better. It was tough when Laura left, but ya moved on. What doesn't kill ya only make ya stronger right?" Spot chuckled bitterly.

"I don't want it ta get better though…I want Annabelle back," Spot closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think I'm too late though… she's suppose ta get married soon." Jack scratched the back of his neck.

"Ya, about that…" Spot looked up at him. "See I talked ta Sarah and I guess she stayed the night with Annabelle and well, I guess what I'm tryin ta say is that the weddin is off. I aint tellin ya this 'cause I think ya should get back with Annabelle or nothin, I just don't want ya thinkin she's off with another guy."

"Really?" Spot stood and took a few steps toward the end of the alley. He turned and walked back to Jack, then faced the exit again. He placed his arms on top of his head and sighed. "Shit, I gatta see her. I gatta go and talk ta her. I mean, she's gatta know that I aint with no one else either."

"Take it easy Spot, ya got time ta think now. If ya want my advice take some time and think it over. Ya can't go burstin inta her house and expect everythin ta be alright," Jack said fervently.

"Why not? I mean she called off the weddin for a reason, she's gatta still have feelins for me," Spot argued.

"Don't rush inta anything Spot, please, think about it first." Jack was too late however, Spot had already run from the alley. "Damnit Spot!" Jack cursed.

Spot ran as fast as he could down the dwindling streets. The street lamps were just beginning to come on. He stopped a block away from Annabelle's house and took in several deep breaths as he slowed his pace to a walk. In his slower pace he began to feel incredibly out of place among the towering suburban houses. He did his best to straighten his clothing and fix his hair as he stood in front of Annabelle's house.

The stairs seemed steeper once he was inside the black gate. Suddenly he wished he'd taken Jack's advice and thought out a plan before running off. What was he going to say? What if Annabelle was still mad at him? What explanation did he have? Moreover, what did he have to offer? If she did take him back, what future could he offer her? Annabelle deserved all the best things that life could offer; could he give them to her?

Spot immediately rethought his initial plan and instead ducked into the alley that ran alongside the house. He pulled the ladder of the fire escape down and climbed it. He stopped when he made it to the window leading to Annabelle's room.

It was dark inside. She was probably asleep. He immediately had visions in his head of gently waking her. Her face would light up and he could once again take her into his arms. A smile crept over his face.

He gripped the edge of the window and pulled upward. Nothing. The window didn't budge. Jammed? He tried it again with a little more force. Nothing. Locked. _Plan B._

He gently rapped on the window. Still nothing. He rapped louder. Knocked. Banged. Nothing. Either she was dead asleep, not in her room, or she could see him and was deliberately not opening the window.

Spot briefly thought about going back down the fire escape and bursting through the front door, but quickly put the thought from his mind. Instead, he leaned against the window, pulled his knees into his chest, and fell asleep. He'd wait all night.

**A/N 'Phobic' by Plumb**


	24. Always

**A/N Still on the plane. Maybe I should fly more often; I'm actually getting chapters done. Who knows, if my battery lasts I'll have the story finished by the time I reach Phoenix. Have you ever felt like a large child while flying in a plane? I look out the window and it brings me back to the days when I played with little toy cars and train tracks. Ah, I miss being seventeen. Lol.**

Annabelle cracked her eyes open as she felt sunlight on her face. Her whole body was stiff. She'd fallen back asleep in the armchair in the library. She tossed aside the blanket covering her lap and stretched her limbs.

"Good morning," Mrs. Long said from the doorway. She was already dressed but there was something about her that was different. A softness that Annabelle had never seen before. "I imagine you slept rather uncomfortably, so I've had a bath drawn for you upstairs."

"Thank you Mrs. Long," Annabelle said as she stood. Mrs. Long smiled, yes smiled, before leaving the doorway. Annabelle couldn't help but feel a lightness in her heart. She had misjudged Mrs. Long by so much. Her prudish exterior was a front. Underneath the calluses was a tender and bruised heart. Annabelle didn't feel so alone anymore.

Annabelle went straight upstairs into the bathroom and slipped into the steaming water. The heat instantly relaxed her sore muscles and the lilac fragrance of the bath oils was practically putting her to sleep again. It was the sort of bath that made bathing addictive.

X

Spot shook himself awake. The morning air was crisper than usual. He rubbed his eyes and brought his mind back to reality. The fire escape was slightly moist with dew and his clothes were damp. He peered in the window as he heard someone in the room. It was Annabelle.

His heart leapt in his chest when he saw her. Upon closer inspection he saw her wrapped in a large towel her skin dripping wet. His mouth went dry. She sat down at a vanity table and began running a comb through her hair. His confidence drained from his flushed cheeks. He couldn't knock on the window now. This plan wasn't going to work. _Retreat_. Spot stood and began climbing down the fire escape as quietly as he could.

X

Reluctantly Annabelle stood from the bath and wrapped a towel around herself. After entering her room she sat at her vanity table and began to run a comb through her hair. She opened the drawer to the table and underneath a hair comb was the key necklace she had shut away. Her fingers glided over the surface. When was Spot going to come for her? Would he? Had he forgotten about her? Should she forget him?

_What am I thinking…if I'm going to love someone it shouldn't require that they love me back._

Annabelle pulled the key out and hung it around her neck. The cold metal of the necklace was soothing against her warm skin. She gasped however, as she heard a clamoring on the fire escape. _Spot?_

Annabelle ran to the window, all thoughts of her towel clad body forgotten. She unfastened the lock on the window and pushed it open. She stuck her head out the window and looked down. Nothing. She opened her mouth to call for Spot when she saw the source of the clamoring. A pigeon was hopping along the railing with a grub in its mouth. Annabelle sighed. No Spot. She ducked back inside and closed the window, but didn't lock it. He'd come someday…wouldn't he?

X

Around five on Monday, the Jacobs family arrived at Annabelle's house. Mrs. Long greeted the five of them and escorted them into the dining room where Annabelle was waiting.

"Thank you for inviting us over for dinner, Annabelle," Esther said as Sarah and Annabelle hugged.

"I'm glad to have you, please, sit." Les insisted on having the seat next to Annabelle, '_because he hadn't seen her in forever!'_ So Sarah sat to Annabelle's right. Partway through the main course, Annabelle set her utensils down and folded her hands in her lap. "I have a confession, Mr. Jacobs. There is another reason why I asked you here besides a social visit."

"Oh?" he responded with a small smile. "What reason would that be?" Annabelle felt relieved that he was so relaxed.

"You once extended the offer of helping me with my real-estate in the west. I was hoping that the offer was still good." Mayer wiped his mouth with a napkin and set it down before replying.

"Of course, I'll do all that I can," he answered. "What exactly is it that you need taken care of?" Annabelle glanced at Mrs. Long who provided a reassuring nod.

"I own a portion of land in Vermont that I would love to do something with. More specifically, I want to build a boarding school for underprivileged youth. How would I go about that?" there was a short silence where Mayer and Esther exchanged looks.

"Well, assuming you have the property deed on hand you'll need a building permit, construction crews if a building is not already there, renovations if there is a building, teachers and then of course students," Mayer answered.

"And how quickly will I be able to adhere to all of that, money is not an object?" A smile was beginning to creep over Sarah's face and Annabelle was struggling not to look her in the eye.

"Let me think," Mayer said as he scratched the back of his neck. "I suppose if I worked diligently I could have the papers drawn up by the weekend. It would certainly take quite a bit of work though. Out of state licensing can get complicated."

"Good, it's a deal then," Annabelle said clapping her hands together. "Mr. Jacobs, I'd like to hire you as the Curator of my Vermont Estate. I trust you will make a thorough invoice of all expenses so that it can be paid in full, as well as the cost for your services, of course."

"Well, certainly," Mayer said slightly in shock. "But I see no reason for my personal services to be paid for, I offered to assist in any way that I could. I'm not a man that goes back on his word."

"And I'm not a woman who takes advantage of a friend. Mr. Jacobs, I fully understand that what I'm requesting in the time parameters is difficult even for a seasoned real estate employee. So please, for my integrity's sake, tell me the cost of your services and if I can have the paperwork filed by Friday, double it." Annabelle's unwavering stare held Mayer's for a moment. Finally, Mayer chuckled and broke eye contact.

"I can see there will be no winning with you, Annabelle," he said with laughter still evident in his voice. "I'll be over on Friday with everything you'll need."

"Perfect," Annabelle replied. She finally let her satisfied smile spread over her face. "Friday it is." Mrs. Long cleared her throat, drawing attention to herself.

"Annabelle, are you forgetting? Friday is your birthday…" Mrs. Long said trailing off. Annabelle furrowed her brow. Was it her birthday already?

"Your birthday?" Sarah asked. "You didn't tell me it was your birthday this weekend. Are you planning anything?" Annabelle laughed.

"How could I plan anything, I forgot." Everyone at the table laughed. "I suppose I'll have to postpone our meeting until Saturday, Mr. Jacobs."

"Not just that, Annabelle, you have to have a party! We'll invite everyone!" Sarah encouraged. Annabelle was about to ask who 'everyone' was, but in the excitement, Les cut her off.

"Ya! Annabelle you _have_ to have a party! We could invite all the Newsies." Sarah began trying to quiet Les, but he wouldn't hear it. "We could get Brooklyn to come over to the Lodging House, it'll be great. Won't it be great David?" David clamped a hand over Les's mouth and gave Annabelle an apologetic look. Sarah turned to Annabelle and to her surprise, Annabelle was smiling.

"Why not Les, I think that's a great idea." Sarah gave Annabelle a confused look, but she only responded with a smile.

"Yes!" Les cried and began happily finishing his food. The overall mood of the meal had changed from overly formal to excessively happy. The seven of them easily fell into light conversation. Even Mrs. Long, daresay, contributed a witty remark or two.

It wasn't until after the tea had been served that Sarah was able to pull Annabelle aside. They were sitting on the couch in the drawing room while Esther happily played a song for them.

"You know if you invite Brooklyn Newsies to your birthday party, Spot is going to find out," Sarah said quietly. Annabelle set her teacup on the table and leaned back. Her face had turned more solemn than it was at dinner.

"I know…I'm sort of hoping on that." When Sarah didn't say anything, Annabelle assumed she was waiting for an explanation. "I've been realizing so much over the last few days. With James finally gone it's like for once I can think clearly. Spot will always be the love of my life, I can't escape it. I want to. I'm still so hurt by him. But the anger is gone. I'm trying to come to a place where I can forgive him. I'm just hoping that he hasn't moved on and that maybe, I can remind him that I still exist."

"I don't understand. Spot hasn't forgotten that you exist!" It was then that Sarah saw the small tear in Annabelle's eye.

"Then…" she took a deep breath. "Why hasn't he come to find me?" Sarah had no answer. She took Annabelle's hand and held it hoping to comfort her friend in anyway that she could.

"I promise you, he hasn't forgotten you. If I know Spot, he'll be at that party ready to sweep you off your feet again." Annabelle couldn't help the laugh despite the pain that still pierced her heart.

"I hope you're right, Sarah…if not, then I know that he has forgotten about me…and I'll just have to try to do the same." Annabelle stood to relieve Esther from the piano and Sarah felt compassion welling up inside her. _Spot will be at that party_, she told herself, _I'll make sure of that_.

X

The Jacobs left late that evening and Sarah promised to meet Annabelle at Tibby's for lunch on Thursday. Sarah pledged, much to Annabelle's reluctance, to plan everything for the party. It was her way of thanking Annabelle for everything she'd had done for their family.

Annabelle went to bed that night with anxious tears in her eyes. One hand tucked beneath her pillow, the other clutching the painfully adored key around her neck.

X

James sat starring into the fire that simmered in the fireplace. The dark coals had a flicker of orange left in them. He took another drink of liquor and swished it around in his mouth.

_What happened? I can't stand it... I don't like this feeling...I'm the ruler, I always get what I want!_

_And I need her love. Now, before it's too late... Yes, I need that girl, Oh, Annabelle, now I just need you. Much more than the air.._.

His melancholy exterior was anything but a reflection of the thoughts that raced in his mind. Everything was ready. Plans were made. The task had already been set into motion. At that very moment Mr. Doyle was watching Annabelle's house making sure she would be there when he arrived.

_Annabelle...You'll be mine tomorrow. Annabelle, passion made me blind! Annabelle, I will stop my sorrow. Annabelle, When you will be mine..._

It was only a matter of time. A game. To wait. To watch. To wait. Only time stood between him and what he wanted. And he always got what he wanted. Always.

_Annabelle...You'll be mine tomorrow. Annabelle, passion made me blind! Annabelle, I will stop my sorrow. Annabelle, When you will be mine..._

**A/N 'Kathryn' by Labyrinth, obvious lyrical change, lol.**


	25. From Good to Bad

**A/N So, a little about what I'm doing in Texas, in case you're curious. I'm an intern at the Honor Academy (amazing place). Worst part about it, we do corporate exercise, which I love because I used to be a personal trainer…except that its at 5:45 in the morning…that makes it 3:45 my programmed time. Ya, it rained this morning. Really hard. It was cold. Anyway, here's the next chappy.**

Sarah, David, Les, and Jack stepped onto the familiar pier in Brooklyn Tuesday evening. The sun was hanging low on the horizon, but it would still be a few hours before it completely set.

David and Jack greeted their familiar companions and Sarah walked directly up to the group she was looking for. Switch, Trick, Duke, Boxy, Snitch, and Bones were all standing in a huddled group comparing their newly bought marbles.

"Hey Sarah," Trick greeted. The tightly formed group spread out to accommodate the new arrival. Sarah, who held a bundle of card, handed each of them a folded piece fo paper neatly decorated with colored ink. "What's this" Trick asked as she opened the card.

"Can't ya read?" Duke asked. "It says right here 'You're invited! It's _obviously_ an invitation of some kind." Switch slapped Duke on the back of the head.

"I'd call ya an idiot, but alls I gatta do is let ya open ya trap and everyone would find out anyways." Duke raised a fist, but Trick pushed him away.

"Annabelle's birthday is on Friday. We're having a get together at Medda's to celebrate," Sarah elaborated. The six of them nodded in understanding. "So, can you come?"

"Ya, sure sure," Switch answered. "We'll be there…but uh…" Switch took hold of Sarah's elbow and pulled her off to the side. "Is this somethin we should, ya know, keep quiet?" Switch gestured to Spot who was sitting on his usual crate talking with David and Jack. Les wasn't far off playing with Jinx.

"No," she said boldly. "In fact…" Sarah placed a hand on Switch's shoulder and used the stability to climb on top of a crate. "Can I have everyone's attention, please!" she called loudly. Slowly the Newsies on the pier turned to see what the commotion was. "Here, these are for you!" Sarah tossed the large pile of cards in the air and the papers caught on the wind and drifted over the assembly. They all grabbed what the could and opened them to read. Sarah hopped down from the crate, her eyes fixed on Spot. He seemed completely callous to Sarah's outburst. He made no attempt to grab a paper.

"Can't wait till Friday," a Newsie said as he walked up to Sarah. She smiled fondly at him, unsure of what his name was though his face was familiar. She sighed. _Plan B_. Without hesitation, she grabbed an abandoned card from the ground and marched directly up to Spot. He turned his attention from whatever David was saying. She thrust the card into his face and he took it with a slight scoff.

"What is this supposed ta be?" he asked. Sarah raised her eyebrows as a way of telling him to read it.

"It's an invitation!" Duke called from his standpoint a few feet away. Switch rolled his eyes and gave Duke's shoulder a good shove. Half a second later there was a splash and a round of laughter, but Sarah's eyes were focused on Spot. He was glaring at her, but she refused to look away from the icy glower. Spot dropped his eyes to the paper and flipped it open. His eyes darted from left to right as he read the contents.

"Well?" Sarah asked and folded her arms across her chest. Spot chuckled bitterly and closed the card. His fierce stare met Sarah's again.

"Well what?" he asked in response. Sarah rolled her eyes. David and Jack were standing to the side watching the interaction with fascination. "Ya think this is funny, some kinda joke?"

"Do look like I'm joking?" Sarah bit back harshly. Spot jumped off the crate and stood directly in front of Sarah. Jack instinctively took a step forward but David pulled him back. "I should hate you for what you did to Annabelle, but I'm choosing to forgive you." Spot rolled his eyes and turned to walk away. Sarah pushed his shoulder hard enough for him to slam his back into the crate he had previously been sitting on. "So you should choose to listen when I'm talking to you." Spot looked at her in confusion and shock. Sarah sighed, her face softening. "Just…listen for a moment. I can't tell you everything, but…you should come on Friday."

"I don't know what ya tryin ta do Sarah, but ya can't make nothin happen that's not supposed ta happen?" Spot's voice had quieted to barely above a whisper. His words were strained. "It just aint ganna work, alright?"

"No, it's not alright!" Sarah said and stomped her foot. Jack intervened at this point. He grabbed her arm and began to pull her away from Spot. "No, stop!" she yelled and pushed Jack away. "I'm sick of sitting by and watching while everyone else gets to say whatever they want. None of you know Annabelle's side of this, none of you!" Sarah's eyes were darting between Jack and Spot now. Her death glare landed on Jack, however, who was beginning to get upset.

"So what is her side?" Spot asked bringing Sarah's attention back. "What…what does Annabelle think? I mean…is she ok?" Spot's eyes looked desperate. Pained.

"I…" Sarah shut her mouth. "I can't tell you…I mean, I can't tell you everything. I promised I wouldn't." Spot sighed in frustration and began to walk away again, but Sarah stopped him. Although, much nicer than the previous time. "But what I _can_ say, is that you should _definitely_ be there on Friday." Spot raised his eyebrows and Sarah nodded. "You should come, Spot. Really," Sarah said sincerely.

"Ok…" Spot replied after a moment. "I'll come." Sarah's eyes brightened and her arms instantly flew around Spot as she squealed in excitement. Jack's and Spot's eyes met. Jack was glaring furiously and Spot was holding both of his hands up. Sarah caught herself and quickly stepped away from Spot.

"Well, um…good. Then you should do that, let's go Jack." She grabbed Jack's hand and began pulling him down the pier, her cheeks burning red.

"What was _that_ all about?" Jack asked once they were out of ear shot. Sarah offered him an apologetic smile.

X

Annabelle met Sarah outside Tibby's on Thursday around noon. They hugged, as their usual greeting, but there was a definite excitement from both of them that was uncommon. They entered the restaurant, sat and ordered, before falling into conversation.

"So how have you been since we last saw one another?" Annabelle asked politely. Sarah laughed and folded her hands on top of the table.

"Don't act coy, Annabelle, I know what you're really wondering," Sarah said knowingly. Annabelle grinned and broke eye contact. "Oh fine, I'll tell you since you won't ask. The plans for the party are going splendidly. I've invited everyone we know, and I'm sure, with the Newsies, more people will come that you've never even met. Medda even agreed to cancel her show for the night to let us have the party at her place."

"Oh no, she shouldn't have done that," Annabelle said in shock. "I don't want this party to inconvenience anyone."

"One thing you should learn about Medda is that she will never offer anything that she isn't sincerely willing to do," Sarah reprimanded. "Anyway, down to the real question you won't ask. The answer is yes…he's coming." Annabelle smiled softly and dropped her eyes to her hands. "Aren't you happy?"

"Yes, I'm happy, I promise…just nervous I guess. I mean, I don't know what he thinks or how he feels so I don't know what seeing him will be like," Annabelle admitted.

"Well, I never promised _him_ I wouldn't say anything so I'll be perfectly honest. Its completely obvious that he is still very, very much in love with you and when I personally gave him the invitation…let's just say he's excited for tomorrow."

"Really?" Annabelle asked with her eyes wide with hope. Sarah smiled and nodded. The similarity between Annabelle and Spot was becoming more apparent to her. They were so much in love and neither of them knew it. Annabelle laughed despite her watery eyes. "Now I don't know what to wear." Sarah laughed too.

"How about I come over to your house before the party and help you pick something out? Then we can go together!"

"That would be amazing! Sarah you're the best friend I could ever hope for. Thank you so much." Annabelle moved seats so she was sitting next to Sarah instead of across from her and gripped her in a tight hug.

"You're welcome Annabelle," Sarah said genuinely. "Now, about what you're going to wear. I'm thinking something gorgeous…"

X

Annabelle twirled around in a circle as she examined herself in the mirror. The emerald colored dress was perfect. Her hair was combed back and a golden hair comb held the left portion of her hair away from her face while her curly locks fell over her back.

Everything was going to be perfect. Hopefully. As she stared at her reflection, butterflies danced in her stomach. The gold key necklace that hung from her neck stood out against the green fabric. What would he think?

"You look lovely, Annabelle," Mrs. Long said from the door. Annabelle turned around and smiled. "I was thinking," she continued as she stepped farther into the room. "This boy, this…Spot, well, I can't say I completely agree with any relationship, but…he seems to make you happy and well, what I'm trying to say is that, maybe you could bring him by sometime so that I might meet him properly." Annabelle felt overwhelmed. Was she hearing things?

"Thank you," Annabelle said sincerely and she kissed Mrs. Long on the cheek. "If everything goes well tonight I will."

"You're going to have a great time," Mrs. Long encouraged. The sound of heavy knocks on the front door interrupted any further conversation. "You'd better go and get that; we can't keep your friend waiting." Annabelle smiled brightly and ran from the room. "Annabelle, please… don't run in the house!" Mrs. Long called but Annabelle was already down the stairs. She took a deep breath, straightened her dress, and flung the door open.

"How do I look…" Panic. The air was thin, filled with a heaviness that couldn't be explained. Breathing was impossible. "James?"

"Why hello Annabelle, aren't you going to invite me in?" James didn't wait. He marched past her into the house, Mr. Doyle behind him. Annabelle felt a knot in her throat. Before she could even speak, James had grabbed her hand. "Don't you look lovely, dressing up for someone special?" He forced her to spin in a circle, and then his hands were on her waist.

"Stop it, don't touch me," she said and pushed his hands away. "Mrs. Long!" she called. The elderly woman appeared at the top of the stairs. Her eyes went wide.

"You…get out of here! You are not welcome in this house!" She was quickly down the stairs and pushed Annabelle behind her.

"What sort of welcome is this!" James said loudly. "Why I practically _own_ this house! At least I will once Annabelle and I are married."

"That will _never_ happen," Mrs. Long snapped. "Now get out or I'll call the police!" James only laughed. It was a wild laughter. Maniacal. Frightening. Annabelle had never been more afraid of James than she was in that moment. Mrs. Long huffed and walked to the phone that was mounted on the wall. Before she could even lift the receiving end, Mr. Doyle had flown to where she was. He pushed her away from the phone roughly and ripped the box from the wall.

"Stop this James!" Annabelle yelled. "You've gone mad!" James only laughed. He looked over his shoulder at Mr. Doyle who also had a cruel smile on his face.

"Hear that Mr. Doyle? I've gone mad!" the two men laughed. Then pain. James backhanded Annabelle so hard she fell to the ground.

"Annabelle!" Mrs. Long shouted. Mr. Doyle drove the end of his cane into Mrs. Long's temple and she collapsed.

"Stop it!" Annabelle shrieked. She tried to crawl over to Mrs. Long, but James grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. "Why are you doing this?" Annabelle asked with restrained sobs.

"I told you Annabelle," he said nonchalantly. "You're mine…forever. If you think that by sending out a few letters this wedding was canceled you're wrong. Now, you behave like a good little wife and nothing has to happen to dear old Mrs. Long." He drew back his jacket and revealed the holstered gun. Annabelle instantly went rigid. _This can't be happening._ "Now come on."

"Where are we going?" Annabelle asked. She tried to pull away from James, but Mr. Doyle grabbed her by her upped arms in a viselike grip.

"To St. Michael's, Annabelle, to be married of course." _No…_James scowled. "I thought I told you to get rid of this!" he ripped the key from her neck and dropped it on the ground.

_Spot…_

X

Sarah happily walked up the steps to Annabelle's house. When she'd left Medda's to go and get Annabelle, everything had looked wonderful. She and her mother had stayed up all night baking an enormous cake for her. People had already started arriving to celebrate Annabelle…or at least to go to the party.

Sarah knocked on the door and it creaked open. Something was wrong. Sarah cautiously pushed the door open farther. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Mrs. Long, are you alright?" the elderly woman was leaning against the wall with blood staining the side of her head. Sarah knelt in front of the woman who was breathing heavily.

"Sarah…you have to get the police," Mrs. Long panted. "He took her…St. Michael's." Sarah pulled the handkerchief from Mrs. Long's hand and pressed it to her wound.

"Who? Who took whom? I don't understand?" Mrs. Long opened her palm and Sarah looked down. A key? Spot's key…Annabelle's key.

"James Winchester…he took Annabelle. Mrs. Long was starting to cry. Sarah was fighting back panic now.

"It's ok, come on we have to get you to a doctor," Sarah said firmly and tried to help Mrs. Long to her feet.

"No, no…I'll be alright. You have to help Annabelle. He…he'll kill her if she doesn't marry him…you have to get the police."

"Help, is someone there!" Sarah called. She momentarily left Mrs. Long and ran down the hall and into the kitchen. She saw someone moving outside in the laundry area. She burst through the door and startled the maid who was hanging a tablecloth out to dry. "Something's happened. Call the police immediately!" The maid stood there in shock. Sarah grabbed the maid's hand and yanked her back to where Mrs. Long was lying. The maid shrieked. "You have to call the police and get help for Mrs. Long."

"Where are you going?" the maid asked, but Sarah was already out the door. In her limited experience the police weren't of much help. Sarah needed to get real help. The Newsies. Spot.

**A/N No song for this chapter. Couldn't find one that worked. Any ideas? Anyway, I got 5 reviews really quickly so…here you go!**


	26. Fury

**A/N So I'm a little sadistic. I hate reading cliff hangers…but I LOVE writing them. Mwahahaha. Oops…did I give something away?**

Sarah felt as though her legs were going to fall off. But she couldn't stop running. Annabelle's life might depend on it. After what seemed an eternity, Medda's came into sight. It was already getting late. The sun was beginning to set.

She threw the door open and collapsed to her knees with exhaustion. Several Newsies looked at her in confusion. One of them being Jack.

"Sarah, it's about time ya got here…where's Annabelle? What's wrong?" Sarah had tears in her eyes. Jack pulled her to her feet, but she pushed past him. She began grabbing random Newsies whose backs were to her. Panic had set in. "Sarah, what the…" Jack caught up with her as she ran farther into the crowd of party goers. He grabbed her and spun her around to him. "What's wrong?"

"Spot…I…have to find Spot. Where is he!" Jack was even more confused. Annabelle didn't wait for an answer. She pulled herself from Jack's hold and began running toward the stage. "Spot!" she yelled. More and more Newsies were beginning to pay attention to the commotion. The piano player stopped playing to watch the scene. Sarah finally caught sight of Spot sitting at a table to the far side of the room with some of the Manhattan Newsies. "Spot!" she screamed. He looked up and his eyebrows knit together.

"What?" he asked as the frantic girl ran over to him. Sarah collapsed into the table and David tried to help her into a seat, but she roughly pushed him away. "Where's Annabelle?"

"J-James, she's with James…" Sarah had to take several deep breaths. She was beginning to get light headed and her vision was starting to swim from the physical and emotional strain.

"Great," Spot said and rolled his eyes. Sarah tried to say something, but Spot was already ranting. "Ya tell me ta come here, get a guy's hopes up and then ya come burstin in here tellin me that she's back with her fiancé. Ya really sick, ya know that!"

"Shut up, Spot!" Sarah shouted over him. "James, took her. Don't you get it he _took_ her. Kidnapped her. After he brutalized her guardian Mrs. Long and probably Annabelle too. He's abusive." Spot flew to his feet.

"Where is she?" Jack raced over to the table and as he saw the encounter between the two. Sarah was slightly taken aback by the fierce look that had come into Spot's eyes. "Damnit, Sarah, where is she? Tell me!"

"St. Michaels, he's going to force her to…" but Spot was already running for the door. "Jack we have to do something," Sarah pleaded. He forced Sarah to sit.

"We'll handle it," he said and David nodded. "Race, Mush, gather the boys and get ta St. Michaels. I gatta go stop Spot from gettin himself killed."

"Jack!" Sarah called when he turned to leave. He looked back at her. Sarah's eyes were wide with tears. He bent down and kissed her.

"I'll be back," he promised. Sarah nodded wordlessly and watched as Jack and David ran from the building.

X

Annabelle ripped her arm away from James' grip. He had forced her into his coach that was rapidly speeding down the road.

"Your plan isn't going to work James," Annabelle said as she scowled at him. "I won't marry you." James casually leaned back in the coach. His calm demeanor was unnerving.

"I think you'll change your mind once we're at the church," he said flatly. "Nothing is stopping me from turning the coach around and bringing dear Mrs. Long with us."

"I'm already eighteen, James, you're too late," Annabelle argued. James only laughed.

"Poor naïve Annabelle, you don't understand how the world works do you? Technically you are eighteen, but your parent's estates are not _legally_ in your name yet. You must have a lawyer sign them over to you."

"And once we're married? Do you think anything is stopping me from having everything signed into my name?"

"If your hands are broken, how can you sign for anything?" The chilling way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine. She sat back and closed her eyes, a tear rolling down her cheek. She was trapped. "Don't defy me Annabelle, it will be the last thing you do."

_Spot…_

When they arrived at the church, Mr. Doyle got out first. James shoved Annabelle out of the coach and Mr. Doyle grabbed her by the arms to prevent her from running. When James finally exited, he grabbed her hand and forced her to link her arm around his. Annabelle went rigid as she felt the barrel of his gun pressed against her lower back.

"Here we are," James said in a cheery voice and began forced Annabelle to walk up the steps of the cathedral-like church. Each step made Annabelle's heart sink a little farther.

The inside of the church was cast in a crimson haze. The dome of the ceiling was made entirely of red stained glass. It made the church look as though the air was on fire. It felt like it too.

There was a father standing at the base of the dais wearing a black robe. He looked up and smiled as he saw the three of them approaching.

"Mr. Winchester, Mr. Doyle, I've been expecting you," he said in a happy voice. "And this must be Miss Danvers. It's lovely to finally meet you." Annabelle didn't say anything as James had pressed the gun harder into her back. She looked at the Father with pleading and teary eyes. "Are you alright my dear?"

"She's fine, Father Peter," James answered quickly. "We're just very eager to get this over with." Father Peter glanced between Annabelle and James with slight confusion. He nodded, however, and gave a polite smile.

"Alright then," Father Peter said clapping his hands together. "Let us begin then." He stepped behind the pulpit and opened the large bible that was placed on it. "Dearly devoted children of God, we mark this day a blessed occurrence as two lives become one. Under the sight of God and the witness of man we join Mr. James Jonathan Winchester and Miss Annabelle Mary Danvers."

_Spot…he's not coming…_

"And we symbolize this union with the ring. A perfect circle that represents unity, completeness, and wholesomeness. Do you have the rings?" Mr. Doyle pulled the tiny jewelry pieces from his pocket and handed them to James. He made Annabelle place one on his own finger before he began to place one on her finger. As he did, however, he had to remove his hand from the gun that was in his pocket. Almost as though it were instinct, Annabelle jumped away from James.

"I won't marry you!" she screamed. James instantly grabbed for his gun, but Mr. Doyle stepped forward and placed a hand on James' arm.

"Come child, there is nothing to fear in holy matrimony," Father Peter said as he came around the podium to stand in front of Annabelle.

"He's forcing me to marry him; he said he'd kill me if I didn't!" Annabelle yelled. She was beyond frantic at this point. Father Peter placed a hand on Annabelle's shoulder.

"Then I suggest you marry him," Father Peter said in a quieter voice. Annabelle looked at him in shock. His only response was a small wink and a push toward James.

"Yes, come Annabelle, let's finish the ceremony," James beckoned. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She struggled and tried to pull away.

"Stop it, no let go of me!" she screamed. James yanked harder. Annabelle tripped and fell to her knees. She kept struggling against James' grip as he tried to haul her to her feet.

"Get ya hands off my girl!" The four of them turned to see a flustered Newsie standing halfway down the aisle and walking quickly toward the altar.

"Spot?" His steely eyes flickered down to Annabelle. It felt like an eternity since she'd looked into his eyes. While Annabelle was distracted, James yanked her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her neck pinning her back against his chest. His right hand clutched the gun as he aimed it at Spot who froze in his tracks.

"This must be him," James whispered while his lips were pressed against Annabelle's ear. "You don't want me to shoot him do you?" Annabelle could only shake her head, a series of tears spilling from her eyes.

"Spot…you have to leave," she said as strongly as she could. Spot took another step forward and Annabelle winced as she heard James cock the trigger. "Just go!" she screamed.

"Annabelle, ya gatta be kiddin me. He's got a gun pointed at ya head, ya think I'm just ganna walk out the door and be on my way?" Spot took another step forward.

"James," Annabelle pleaded. "Don't shoot; it's murder. You'll go to jail!" James looked down at Annabelle as though he were pondering it.

"You're perfectly right, Annabelle," James said and lowered the gun, but not his hold on her. "Mr. Doyle, if you'll be so kind as to remove this unwanted guest." Annabelle screamed again as Mr. Doyle withdrew his can and began walking swiftly toward Spot. "Father, if you'll be so kind as to continue."

Spot took a hesitant step backward and readied himself for the attack. It wouldn't be the first fight he'd been in…Lord willing; it wouldn't be his last either.

"We…um do you have the ring?" James forced the binding object onto Annabelle's hand and waved the gun as a sign for the Father to hurry up. "Then-then do you James Winchester take Annabelle Danvers to be your wedded wife in sight of God and man…"

"I do, now hurry it along!" Annabelle struggled to look back at the fight. Mr. Doyle was swinging his cane at Spot who was jumping backward to avoid being hit. Spot run underneath one of the swings and tackled Mr. Doyle to the ground. He followed the blow with a series of hits to the face. "Annabelle!" James growled. He forced her to look back at the Father. "Say it, or _he_ dies!"

"I…I" Annabelle took another fleeting look behind her and saw Mr. Doyle throw Spot off of him and he hit him upside the head with the crown of his cane. "I do…" Annabelle said as her mouth had gone dry.

"Then I pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss you bride." James crushed Annabelle against him and released her so quickly she stumbled backward. "If you could just sign the marriage license…" Father Peter said hesitantly. James grabbed the pen from him and pulled Annabelle around to the other side of the podium. He signed it and forced the pen into her hand.

"Sign it!" he growled. Annabelle looked up and saw Spot had gained the upper hand on Mr. Doyle. He had the cane pressed against Mr. Doyle's throat and was keeping him restrained. "Do it!" James roared and once again aimed the gun at Spot. Annabelle didn't allow herself to hesitate. She signed quickly. James released her, a sickening smile on his face. "Now say goodbye Annabelle," James said and his finger twitched on the trigger.

"No!" she yelled and threw her weight against him. The bullet flew from the gun and upward. A second later there was a shattering sound. Showers of red glass cascaded down on them and Annabelle cried out as the glass fragments cut her skin. Everyone ducked to the ground and did their best to cover their heads. Annabelle crawled away from James and toward the front aisle.

When the glass had stopped falling, Spot quickly jumped to his feet and looked around for Annabelle. He saw her crouched near the front of the room. Before he could even take a step toward her, Mr. Doyle had grabbed his foot and ripped his legs out from underneath him.

Annabelle saw an open door to the left of the dais that looked as though it led to the side alley. She scrambled for it, but James tackled her.

"Get over here," he snapped and jerked her to her feet. She slapped him and he backhanded her. Annabelle felt her vision swim and the next thing she knew she was lying face down on the ground. She could hear James standing over her and the weight of his heavy foot collided with her side. Her shuttering moan caused a surge of white hot pain to stab into her lungs. "I've had about enough of you Annabelle!" James yelled and grabbed her by the back of the head. Then. Salvation.

She could see the gun lying in front of her. She grabbed for it, but it was just beyond the tips of her fingers. Instead, Annabelle wrapped her fingers around a long piece of red glass and as James yanked her up by the roots of her hair, she rounded on him. The sharp edge of the glass connected with his cheek digging a deep gash into the flesh just beneath his right eye.

James cried out in pain and dropped Annabelle. He clutched a hand to his bleeding face and fell to his knees. The grabbed the lit candle on the podium and flung the melted wax across his face. He screamed and covered his eyes with his hands as he writhed in pain.

Annabelle almost ran to the door on the side of the dais until she heard Spot's grunt. She whipped her head around and saw Mr. Doyle had Spot pinned against a column with his hands wrapped around his throat.

She frantically looked around, but couldn't relocate the gun. Instead, she saw Mr. Doyle's cane lying a few feet from the scuffle. She hurried to it and grabbed it. Her heart was beating so heavily that all she could hear was her pulse in her ears. Fear. Then something new filled her. As she saw Spot struggling to breathe, the scowling yet enthralled face of Mr. Doyle, something new filled her. Fury. With a cry of anger, she swung with all the strength in her. The next thing she heard was the crack of the thick, cherry wood cane snapping in half as it broke over the back of Mr. Doyle's head.

Mr. Doyle's hands fell to his sides and he collapsed to the floor. Spot took a gasping breath and rubbed his throat. His vision returned to him and he saw Annabelle standing bravely behind where Mr. Doyle's wide form had just been. Half of the broken cane was still clutched in her hand. She looked wild.

Her eyes finally rested on his and she dropped the remainder of the cane. Her breathing became more normal as tears flooded her eyes.

"Hi," she said quietly. His legs carried him forward and he wrapped his arms around her. She fell easily into his embrace and buried her face in the crook of his neck. She was trembling.

_Hold on to me love. You know I can't stay long. All I wanted to say was I love you and I'm not afraid. Can you hear me? Can you feel me in your arms?_

"Christ I missed you, Annabelle," he murmured as he inhaled the lilac scent of her hair. She pulled away enough to look him in the eyes, her hands gripping his shoulders. "I-I don't even know where to being. I'm so sorry for everythin. I never shoulda let ya go. I understand if ya can't forgive me yet, but I'm ganna do everythin I can to try and win ya back. I still love you Anna…"

"Stop talking," she interrupted and kissed him. His grip on her instantly tightened.

_Holding my last breath safe inside myself are all my thoughts of you. Sweet raptured light it ends here tonight. _

They separated after they heard the doors of the church fling open. Spot pulled Annabelle behind him but sighed in relief as he saw Jack running inside.

"Ya late!" Spot called. Jack surveyed the scene and chuckled. He slowed to walking pace toward the couple. "You ok here?" he asked and sat Annabelle down on one of the wooden benches. She nodded and he bent to kiss her forehead. Spot met Jack halfway down the aisle.

"Guess I missed the party," Jack teased and the two friends gripped hands. "I should go warn the troops ta hold off. I think the boys are gatherin all the newsies in New York." Spot rolled his eyes.

"Ya gatta have a little more faith in me, Jacky-boy." Spot shoved Jack's shoulder. "Ya know I can handle myself."

"Ya, ya, but ya say the word fight and newsies come runnin," Jack replied. "Now go get ya girl and get on over ta Medda's. We got a party, remember." Spot grinned and Jack walked for the exit.

Annabelle watched the interaction with a small smile on her face. Spot was back. He'd come for her after all…a little late, but he came. Now everything would be ok.

_I'll miss the winter, a world of fragile things; look for me in the white forest hiding in a hollow tree (come find me). I know you hear me, I can taste it in your tears  
_

Her calm satisfaction melted into heart sinking fear. She'd forgotten James. Her eyes darted to the dais. He was slowly standing, blood pouring from his face. He had something clutched in his hand, but she couldn't see what it was.

_Holding my last breath safe inside myself are all my thoughts of you. Sweet raptured light it ends here tonight…_

_Closing your eyes to disappear; you pray your dreams will leave you here, but still you wake and know the truth. No one's there._

She stood to get a better view. James was upright now and was facing Annabelle. Their eyes met. He lifted his arm and aimed the object at her…the gun. He slowly turned from Annabelle to her right. She eyes followed. Spot.

_Spot._

She must have called out his name because he quickly turned toward Annabelle with a furrowed brow. He too noticed the figure standing at the end of the aisle. Then she was running. She hadn't even thought about it, but she was running. If she could just get to Spot everything would be ok. Everything would be fine. Both of them would be safe.

_Bang…_

Annabelle leapt forward and wrapped her arms around Spot trying to shield him from the bullet. He caught her and hugged her to his chest. Their eyes met. Her eyes were wide with fear, concern, and something else…something strange. Then…they both saw it. Red. Blood.

_Say goodnight, don't be afraid, calling me calling me as you fade to black, holding my last breath safe inside myself are all my thoughts of you. Sweet raptured light it ends here tonight._

"Spot."

**A/N 'Holding My Last Breath' by Evanescence. **


	27. Say It

**A/N HAHAHAHA ok that's all I have to say.**

Annabelle furrowed her brow. There was a small red mark on Spot's right shoulder. She delicately touched her finger to it. When she removed it there was blood on her fingers. Her eyes moved to Spot's he was looking down at her, his breathing was ragged. But he was alive. She smiled softly. Spot was alright. Then her knees buckled.

Spot had to tighten his grip on Annabelle as she went limp in his arms. It had happened so quickly, but he'd seen it as though it had taken hours. The bullet flew from the gun toward him. Then Annabelle had run in its path. It looked like a small explosion as the bullet hit her in the back and exited through her chest. She'd flow forward and as he caught her the bullet had penetrated his shoulder. The amount of adrenaline coursing through his veins numbed the pain almost entirely. Now here he was, clinging to Annabelle as she sagged in his arms.

_Tell me how am I supposed to breathe with no air…_

"Annabelle, no, no, come on look at me," Spot yelled as he slowly lowered her to the floor. He laid her on her back; the front of her dress was soaked in blood. He took her face in his hands and made her look up at him. Her face was already deathly pale and her eyes were dilated.

"Spot?" she asked in a raspy voice. He took her hand in his. "I'm glad you came…" her voice was soft…barely above a whisper.

"Of course I came, I'll always come for ya Annabelle, ya know that." Spot was frantic. He didn't know what to do. He was powerless to stop this…stop death.

"I…I love you Spot…don't, don't forget that, ok," Annabelle pleaded. "Promise me you won't forget."

"I won't forget, ya know why? 'Cause ya ganna be here to remind me. Everyday. I'm ganna make ya say it a million times a day whether ya want to or not." Annabelle tried to laugh but ended up choking and gasping for air. "Annabelle!"

_If I should die before I wake it's 'cause you took my breath away. Losing you is like living in a world with no air…_

"S-Spot…I can't…I can't breathe." Spot cradled her in his arms and brushed the hair out of her face. "I…can't…breathe…." Then nothing.

"No! No Annabelle don't do this, come on. Look at me!" Her eyes were closed. "Don't leave me…" he begged silently. Her arms fell limp at her sides. Then there was laughter. Cruel, unfeeling laughter. Spot looked up at the dais where James stood. He was actually laughing. The bastard was laughing!

"Oh this worked out better than I could have imagine! She's dead and her _you_, her lover, is covered in her blood!" James started laughing again. Spot carefully laid Annabelle on the ground and stood slowly. James felt his laughter fade as he made eye-contact with Spot. His eyes were bloodshot and angry tears leaked from the corners. James felt his heart sink into his stomach. He lifted the gun toward Spot, but his hand was trembling. "Don't even think about it," James warned.

"I aint just thinkin about it," Spot muttered. He bolted into a run and before James could even register to pull the trigger, Spot had tackled him against the podium. The wood splintered and small splintered stabbed at James' back. He was distracted from the pain however, as Spot straddled him and began pummeling him. His rock like fists pounded against his face and chest. "You…fuckin…bastard!" Spot yelled. James attempted to shield himself from the onslaught, but failed miserably.

"Spot, Spot stop it!" Jack had returned when he heard the commotion. He grabbed Spot and pulled him off of James. "Ya ganna kill him!"

"That's the point!" Spot screamed and ripped himself loose. He attacked James again, but Jack pulled him back.

"Enough it's over!" Jack hollered in attempt to control Spot's tantrum. Then there were more people. David, Race, Skittery, Mush, and Kid-Blink had rushed in from the side entrance and were watching the encounter.

"No it's not, the bastard killed her! He killed Annabelle!" There was a collective gasp from the Manhattan Newsies.

"Spot…" Jack started as he heard the familiar haunting of whistles blowing. "We gatta go, it's the Bulls!"

"No one is going anywhere!" James yelled. He scrambled to his feet and was flailing the gun in every direction. Everyone except for Spot took a large step away from the madman. There was a groan coming from behind Spot and Mr. Doyle shoved Spot out of his way as he stood next to James on the dais. The bald man's head was bleeding profusely, but he looked alert.

"What's going on in here!" The police had entered the church now. The scen portraed in front of them was nothing short of appauling. Two sophisticated looking men standing on the dais, both bleeding, one with a gun, facing half a dozen Newsies. Then there was the girl. Halfway down the center aisle of the church was the unmoving form of a young woman with blood all over her chest.

"These Newsies attacked me and my bride during the wedding! Arrest them!" James yelled. Two police officers separated from the large cluster and began walking toward the closest Newsies, but the leader of them signaled for them to stop. He wasn't without eyes. One of the Newsie boys had been shot as well.

"Who shot the boy?" the Chief asked as he took a cautious step forward. James hesitated. He looked to Mr. Doyle then back to the Chief.

"My companion, Mr. Doyle did. But it was in defense of myself and my bride." Mr. Doyle glared at James. "He wrestled the gun from this pathetic Newsie. Isn't that right Mr. Doyle?" James asked with raised eyebrows.

"Go on, tell the truth," the Chief ordered. "I have half a mind to arrest all of you!" Mr. Doyle looked at James and gave him a short nod. He took a cautious step backward and fixed the Chief with a hard stare.

"No sir it is _not_ true," Mr. Doyle said loudly. "Mr. Winchester here shot the girl and the Newsie in cold blood. I saw it with my own eyes."

"What!" James roared. He aimed the gun at Mr. Doyle, but before he could shoot another gun went off."

"I suggest you put the gun down, young man!" the Chief barked. He held his own gun in his hand and it was aimed at James. "Back away from the dais, all of you. Now!" everyone obeyed except for James and Spot. Jack grabbed Spot by the arm and pulled him backward. "You Newsies, over here! We need statements." The other officers began cautiously walking toward the dais where James had collapsed to his knees.

"Careful now," one of the officers said as his companion was carefully lifting Annabelle into his arms. Spot became livid again.

"Don't' touch here!" he yelled and before Jack could hold him back, he was shoving the officer out of the way.

"Restrain him!" the Chief yelled. It took three officers to wrestle Spot to the ground. They slammed him to the ground and pulled his hands behind his back. They clasped handcuffs on him and began pulling him from the church.

"No, Annabelle! Don't touch her! I swear to God I'll kill you if you touch her!" Spot fought the whole way to the Refuge, but was unsuccessful in his ravings.

"Alright now…" the Chief said gently to James. "Just put the gun down and we can talk about this. No sense in doing anything crazy." James was sitting on his knees on the dais as the other Newsies were being taken outside. He was rocking back and forth an eerie grin on his face. He was laughing again.

"Crazy…crazy," James said and laughed again. He tapped the gun against his thigh in rhythm with his chanting. "How's this for crazy!" he lifted the gun, took it in his mouth, and fired.

_Bang…_

Mr. Doyle slipped past the police into the side alley. He was chuckling to himself in his triumph. He wiped the blood from the side of his head and marched into an adjoining alley.

"Hey," someone called and Mr. Doyle turned around. It was one of those pestering Newsies again. Though this one was different from the ones that had witnessed the happenings in the church. Mr. Doyle ignored him and turned back around and continued walking. "Hey I'm talkin to ya, Baldy!" the boy called. Mr. Doyle stopped and faced the boy. "You the guy that soaked Spot?" Mr. Doyle just grinned.

"And what are you going to do about it?" The boy glared at Mr. Doyle, but whistled loudly. From behind him five Newsies appeared. Mr. Doyle took a step backward. Then another one as they advanced. He turned around and began walking away quickly, but a group of Newsies exited from an alley in front of him and stopped him in his tracks. "See that's the thing about Newsies," the boy from before told him. "Ya mess with one, ya mess with all of 'em. Now boys, let's show Baldy here what happens when ya mess with Brooklyn."

X

Spot was leaning against the bars of a window in the Refuge staring down at the street below him. It was nightfall, normally his favorite time of the day. But now…it was empty. Every breath he took was painful, and not just because the wound in his shoulder had been poorly bandaged.

_Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air. Can't live, can't breathe with no air. It's how I feel whenever you ain't there; it's no air, no air…_

The door at the other end of the room opened, but Spot hesitated before turning. A guard stepped in a moment later.

"Pack your things, Conlon, ya made bail," the guard snapped. Spot furrowed his brow, but from behind the guard Mrs. Long appeared. The guard left the room but kept the door open. Spot stood as tall as he could, his body aching.

"I've never been good at apologies," Mrs. Long began as she broke the awkward silence. "I won't pretend to like you…but I thought, with things the way they are that maybe I should try to get to know you as best I could." Spot cleared his throat and momentarily dropped his eyes to the ground. "I would like it very much if you could come for dinner tonight. There are several things I'd like to discuss with you. Mainly Annabelle." Spot nodded. He felt the maternal protectiveness Mrs. Long had for Annabelle and he respected it. "But first…" Mrs. Long said her voice cracking. "Will you forgive and old lady for being foolish?" Spot smiled softly.

"Ya, I forgive ya. And thanks, for bailin me out an all." Mrs. Long smiled as well and nodded. The two left the small room and the Refuge altogether. That was the first step in a very awkward and unusual relationship between two worlds.

X

It was two weeks later that they had the funeral. Closed casket funerals always took more preparation…More time to plan. More time to grieve.

Spot stood at the back of the room leaning against the wall, his right arm hung in a sling. It was a painstakingly long funeral. No one spoke to Spot. They dared not even look at him. Jack had insisted he come, but Spot had given him a stern look. That was all it took nowadays for Spot to silence people. A glare.

_Got me out here in the water so deep. Tell me how you gon' be without me. If you ain't here, I just can't breathe; it's no air, no air…_

Finally, the funeral was over. The black-clad people began mingling. Several of the women were crying and the men were doing their best to comfort them. They were just faces to Spot. None were worth knowing. He didn't care.

It was one of the most painful days of his life having to stand in the back of the room listening. The Father rambled on about what a 'spectacular and noble' life the deceased had lived. 'The Deceased… _apparently that's what your called once you're dead_._ No name. Ya not important no more. Just 'The Deceased'._ He took a deep breath and leaned his head back against the banister. His head was beginning to throb.

_I walked, I ran, I jumped, I flew right off the ground to float to you. There's no gravity to hold me down for real…_

It took every ounce of Spot's strength not to march to the front of the room, shove the Father out of the way, and tell everyone what really happened. The lies in the room were stifling. He just wanted to get away from it all.

_But somehow I'm still alive inside. You took my breath, but I survived. I don't know how, but I don't even care…_

_So how do you expect me to live alone with just me. 'Cause my world revolves around you. It's so hard for me to breathe…_

Spot opened his eyes as he felt someone approach him from the left. He turned his head to the side and a soft smile crept over his face.

"Sorry I made you suffer through this, but what kind of widow would I be if I didn't attend my late husband's funeral." The playful grin on Annabelle's face sent a wave of relief through Spot. Annabelle almost hadn't made it. She was still pale from the loss of blood, and she couldn't stand for more than a few minutes, but she was here with him now.

"Ya ready ta go?" he asked and she nodded. "Ya feel like Tibby's for lunch? I got me boys ta meet us there," he said as he wrapped his good arm around her shoulders.

"Anywhere as long as it's not here," Annabelle said with a smile. They made it safely outside without being stopped. It wasn't until Mrs. Long met them on the curb that the couple paused in their blissfully walk.

"You should take the carriage Annabelle," Mrs. Long instructed. "You're still not recovered fully." Annabelle shook her head, her hair falling over her face.

"I'll be alright, it's a short walk and I promise to rest when I need to. Remember the Doctor said fresh air will do me good." Mrs. Long hesitated before nodding.

"Alright then, I expect to see you both for dinner tonight." The two agreed and said goodbye before strolling down the street into the heart of Manhattan.

All of the Newsies were waiting outside Tibby's. They all cheered as Spot and Annabelle approached.

Sarah hugged Annabelle gently and Trick even gave Annabelle a small hug. They all began regaling Annabelle with their version of what had happened two weeks prior and it wasn't until Spot pushed everyone out of the way claiming Annabelle needed to sit and rest that they left her alone momentarily.

Spot sat her down inside and took the seat next to her, his arm never leaving her shoulders.

"Whatcha ganna order?" Race asked as he leaned over to Annabelle. "I mean, what do dead girls eat?" Everyone laughed, including Annabelle, except for Spot who began to stand in challenge to Spot. Annabelle placed her hand on his shoulder and he instantly calmed. That was all it took nowadays. A touch.

"Look whose back from the dead." Annabelle felt her fist clench at her side as three girls entered the restaurant. Roxie and her cronies.

"Thought I told ya not ta come," Spot said in a raised voice. Roxie flipped her hair over her shoulder and winked at Annabelle.

"Does he always play so hot and cold?" she asked in a flighty voice. A tense silence fell over the room as everyone watched the scene unfold.

"Roxie, I aint ganna tell ya again ta get lost!" Spot barked. Annabelle briefly touched his hand before standing.

"It's alright. Roxie, I don't mind if you're here," Annabelle said in as genuine a voice as she could. She walked around Spot's chair to where Roxie was standing. "I'd hate to be the reason why you'd leave." Annabelle extended a hand to Roxie who just looked at it with disgust. "I'm being entirely sincere," Annabelle said and looked around the room. "I mean, seriously, you being here makes me look better by comparison, and I was just shot." Everyone broke into laughter and Roxie's face flushed in embarrassment and anger.

"Ya lucky that ya just been shot or I'd teach ya some manners, Richie!" Roxie snapped. Annabelle just chuckled.

"See that's somethin that you're ganna have to learn about me, Roxie," Annabelle said sternly. "I aint much of a Richie anymore." Annabelle drew her fist back and it connected with Roxie's face. She screamed and clutched a hand to her bleeding nose. "By the way, keep your filthy hands off my man!" Amongst the wild laughter in the room a round of applause broke out and Roxie, with her followers, ran from the diner. Spot jumped to his feet as Annabelle swooned. He caught her and led her outside for fresh air.

"Damnit Annabelle, why'd ya have ta go and do somethin like that. Ya just been shot for Christ's sake," Spot reprimanded as he sat her on a crate in the alley. Annabelle took a few deep breaths and the color slowly returned to her face.

"I think you're making a bad influence on me," she teased with a small chuckle. Spot just shook his head and buried his fingers in her hair.

"Annabelle," Spot said gently and pressed his forehead against hers. "I thought I'd lost ya."

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Conlon," Annabelle whispered. Spot closed his eyes tightly and a small tear fell from the corner of his eye.

"Say it," Spot asked. Annabelle tenderly placed a hand on his cheek and wiped it away.

"I love you," she answered faithfully. Spot brushed his fingers over her cheek, a serious look on his face. He caught her in a tender kiss that spoke the words he couldn't

"Say it…"

"I love you," she whispered against his lips. He grinned this time as she pulled him into another kiss. "Come on," she said standing and pulling on his good arm." Spot let Annabelle take a few steps in front of him as he watched her. _Christ she's beautiful…_ Annabelle turned around to face Spot when she realized he wasn't following. "I'm famished," Annabelle reprimanded.

"Say it again," Spot called. Annabelle shook her head and walked back to Spot. She took his face in both her hands and made sure he was looking directly into her eyes.

"I…Love….You! Now get it through your thick skull!" She teased. Spot wrapped his arm tightly around her.

"Alright then," he replied. "One more time."

"Spot!"

_Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air. Can't live, can't breathe with no air. It's how I feel whenever you ain't there; it's no air, no air_

**A/N 'No Air' by Jordan Sparks and Chris Brown. Let me reiterate: HAHAHAHA.**


	28. Author's Note

Hey All,

Hey All,

This will be my final A/N for Take My Breath Away. I am sad that the story has come to an end, but I'm happy with where I left it. If you read my story Virtue, you know that I prefer to leave my endings ambiguous. I WANT my readers to take creative liberties with my writing. After all, that's what this website thrives on isn't it? The art of interpretation is a beautiful thing. So as for where Annabelle and Spot are now? They are wherever you want them to be!

I am eager to begin a new fanfiction and I hope all of you amazing readers will stick with me through my stories. I ran into a small problem though, I'm not sure what story/movie/television show etc… to write on. I have a few locked away in the bank, but they are still very much in preproduction.

So, what do you guys _want_ to read? I am also looking to start a series of one-shot fics so if there are any that you would like to see feel free to hit me up with suggestions.

Here is a special thank you to all my reviewers:

Clover 33

ColonKellyHigginsGoil304

Damico

Dimonah Tralon

Eden

edward cullen is my husband...

elleestJenn

enchantedwriter72

Facetiouslymischievious

fangsangel

For Esme

Fox Da Newsie

here we go again.

heygirlhey.

Inwea

Kathryn Mason-Sykes

Kits-in-the-HAT

-livinhell-

livwitharmony

Mandi

MeyersConlonHiggins

NeverBeTamed

no one likes waiting

Renavatio

Seren McGowan

Seren McGowan

Seren McGowan

Shamrock

SiLLy-LiTtLe-DrEaMeR

smallncrazy91

Smartass Joker

spotisasexybeast!?

Star Angel

TuRN2KiD113

wackydreams

welivetonight

what's up!?

won't be the Victim

wudd up punk?

x0 dirtintheskirt 0x

xBlackxTearzx

XenobiaMoon

xxmickibabexx

xxWickedWench

Z00


	29. Elite Readers

Hello dearest readers,

I have a fun opportunity for you. I am looking for a panel of readers who would like to preview my upcoming fanficitons and let me know what they think.

I also have two original works that I am hoping to get published, one is fiction the other is non fiction. Because you guys are so amazing I thought I would see if you would like to join.

I will be taking into consideration the number of reviews you have submitted and the content of your reviews. Let me know _why_ you want to be on the panel and I will get back to you if you are accepted.


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